


The Rules

by semipeaceful



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Bartender!Daichi, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Writer!Sugawara, everyone's having a mid-twenties crisis, hayato is very ooc sorry hayato stans, implied depression, mentions/flashbacks to past bullying, oikawa is too invested in his friends' love lives, referenced homophobia but its only like two sentences, these tags make it seem darker than it is, they're just going through some stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25142695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semipeaceful/pseuds/semipeaceful
Summary: The plan was simple. Be fake boyfriends so Oikawa would stop bugging them about their love lives, and Suga could focus on his writing and Daichi could focus on getting over his ex. The rules were simple, too. So why do they keep accidentally breaking them?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, past daichi/hayato, past oikawa/suga
Comments: 45
Kudos: 290
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	1. The One Where They Write the Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! With every chapter I'm going to add a couple songs to listen to, so this chapter's are:
> 
> 4 am, girl in red  
> Crush Culture, Conan Gray
> 
> Enjoy!

Sugawara writes by moonlight.

He liked the calm. He liked the way the soft glow reflects off his silver hair. He liked the sight of the moon, a comforting presence whether he's in Tokyo or Paris.

Nights are different in different cities. Not many people pay enough attention to realize this. Some nights are quiet, but most aren't. Howling coyotes and hooting owls make their presence known in rural areas, while humans occupy the soundscape with cars, airplanes, and conversation in cities.

Sometimes, when inspiration was low, all Suga needed to do was to climb out onto his rickety balcony, lit by the luminescence of the moon and his laptop, and listen.

This was why, with 1:36 AM blinking on Suga's phone, he was carefully unlatching his living room window.

The city was spread around him, and, while something sad twisted in him when he looked up and saw only light pollution, he also couldn't help but feel unbelievably small. How many people lived in this city? Each of them have their own lives, friends, struggles, jobs, homes, and families. Each one of them had their own story, and Suga wanted to write them all.

One time, Oikawa told him that if he spent too much time writing other people's stories, he'd never get the chance to write his own.

The thing was, Suga didn’t see what was wrong with that.

  
Once Suga had exhausted his creative drive for the night, he carefully set aside his laptop and focused on watching the mostly-vacant street. There was a couple, tipsy and giggly, drunkenly stumbling towards Suga’s apartment building. He smiled at the fond way the man placed a kiss on his date’s head and belatedly recognized him as his neighbor down the hall who went through a rough breakup a few weeks ago, if the phone call Suga overhead from his balcony was any testament. _Good for him._

"You're not going to jump, right?"

Suga startled, searching the sidewalk for the man that had spoken.

The owner of the voice stood just below his balcony, head tipped back, moonlight reflecting in his dark eyes. 

"I'm not going to jump."

The man lifted a dark eyebrow. "Promise?"

"Pinky promise," Suga affirmed. "In fact, I'm going inside now."

"Okay, well, have a good night."

"You too, Mr. Stranger."

The man chuckled a little, but continued walking. Suga watched him go, collected his laptop, and went inside.  
  
  
  
The next morning (as long as you counted 11 AM as “morning”), Suga found his roommate sitting at their tiny dining table, eating berries from a bowl, and staring at his Instagram feed.

Oikawa Tooru was a beautiful creature, despite the hangover, with fine features and smooth skin and perpetually perfect hair. Suga hated him.

Not really, the two of them had been friends ever since their first volleyball camp together in elementary school. (Back then, Suga had been the cuter one, but whatever. He wasn't upset in the slightest. No, really. _It’s fine._ )

"Hey, Tooru."

Miles away from his usual peppy enthusiasm, Oikawa barely glanced up from his phone to say, "Morning.”

"Are you seriously _that_ hungover?" Suga asked, smirking.

The tips of his ears were red as Oikawa dipped his head in a tired nod. In an instant, however, he perked up, sliding his phone over to Suga. It was in gallery mode, showing pictures from the night before.

"Iwa's roommate just opened this new bar and he offered a great deal for drinks so tons of people showed up! I swear, Sawamura almost cried. I don't think we got back to Iwa’s until almost two."  
Suga flipped through the photos. Quite a few of the pictures were selfies of a very animated Oikawa and a very not-animated Iwaizumi. A picture of a pretty blue and probably _very_ alcoholic drink. A tasteful photo of Hanamaki’s ass.

"Mmm, you saw Kageyama?" Suga asked, flipping to the next photo.

Oikawa's expression soured. "Yeah. Brat has a boyfriend now."

"Be nice."

Snorting, he rolled his eyes. " _Tobio_ has a boyfriend. A hyper little thing. Orange hair. They're definitely a sight."

Suga reached the last of the photos, which showed a little rustic bar. Busy, but clean and well-taken care of.

"Looks like a cute place,” Suga hummed, sliding Oikawa’s phone back to him.

Through a mouth full of blueberries, Oikawa asked, “What time did you get to bed last night anyways?”

Suga frowned, trying to remember what the blinking numbers on his laptop said when he finally folded it closed the night before. “I don’t know. Sometime around four, I think?”

When Oikawa didn’t immediately say anything, Suga added, defensively, “You were out partying all last night, I don’t think you’re allowed to shame me for that.”

“I wasn’t _shaming_ you,” Oikawa said, quickly. “I just think you should… get out more. You know, hang out with some friends instead of a word document. Go on a date or something. I could set you up with someone on my volleyball team? Or maybe on Iwa’s team?”

Suga rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Tooru. You know as well as I do that the blind dates never go well. And I _have_ friends. There’s you, and Kiyoko, and Iwaizumi-”

“Kiyoko is your agent,” Oikawa reminded him, not unkindly. He picked up a strawberry from his bowl before setting it down again and folding his hands. “And the only reason you and I are still friends is because we’re roommates, otherwise I’d never see you because you never _do anything._ I can’t be your only social interaction for the rest of your life, Koushi. We won’t be roommates forever.”

Suga bit his lip. _So that’s what this is about._

“Iwaizumi asked you to move in with him, didn’t he?”

Oikawa’s wince told Suga he hit the nail on the head. “Sorry, I… it won’t happen immediately, but… Look, just… go out with us tonight, will you? We’re going back to Iwa’s roommate’s bar again, and I can introduce you to some of Iwa’s friends and if you’re having a bad time, we’ll go straight home.”

“Okay,” Suga agreed, hesitantly. “But you’re paying for the Uber if you get plastered. And can’t walk home.”

“Deal!”

Then Suga stole a blueberry from Oikawa’s bowl, and Oikawa pouted and swatted a hand at him and he knew they would be alright.  
  


Sugawara did not like to get drunk. He was a watcher, an observer of life and how people lived their lives and that ability was null if Suga was inebriated. So he stuck to his Sprite and the occasional white wine in a safe environment where he wouldn't be pressured to drink more.

Oikawa, on the other hand, loved to be drunk. It wasn’t that he was an alcoholic, he just enjoyed having what little inhibition he had lifted by a Screwdriver or a Cosmopolitan every other weekend. It also helped that those wasted nights often ended with his boyfriend carrying him from the bar to the taxi and from the taxi to his bed. Oikawa once told Suga, “Iwaizumi says the sweetest things when he thinks neither of us will remember it in the morning.”

Sugawara liked to stay home, where he was safe and alone. Oikawa liked to be thrown into strange situations with strange people and interesting anecdotes. Suga was an introvert, Oikawa was an extravert.

The two followed different philosophies, to say the least, and Suga was reminded of this dichotomy as soon as he got home from his book signing at a local shop. He had barely opened the door when Oikawa said, “Go change, you’re not going out in that.”

“You haven’t even seen what I’m wearing.” Suga complained as he stepped into the apartment. Oikawa looked him up and down with a tilted head, sizing up his cardigan, scarf, and jeans.

Pursing his lips, Oikawa admitted, “It’s better than I expected. Not good enough for a night out, though.”

“This is coming from the boy who wore three different plaids in one outfit?”

"Stop bringing that up! That was in high school!” Oikawa grabbed a few pieces of fabric from the couch and threw them at Suga. “Put that on.” He added, as an afterthought, “Love you?”

“Love you too,” Suga snickered, heading to his bedroom. "You know, this is the reason people stereotype gay men as stylish and vain!"

"So? I'm stylish and vain and it just so happens that I'm gay."

With a sigh, Suga inspected the pants Oikawa had thrown his way. The last time he’d worn jeans this tight, the two had still been in high school. The jeans should have _stayed_ in high school.

Perfectly on cue as always, Oikawa called, “Tuck the shirt into the jeans, you’ve got a nice ass, use it!”

“Why do I feel like you’re trying to get me laid tonight?”

There were too many beats of silence before the very unconvincing response. “No reason.”

Suga resisted the urge to jump out the window.

_The Drunken Crow_ , as the sign outside had boasted, was louder than Suga expected. Although, to be fair, he hadn’t really known _what_ to expect. It wasn’t like he spent a lot of time in bars. It was busy tonight, similar to the crowd Suga had observed in Oikawa’s pictures from the night before, with a majority of patrons crowding around a small stage in the corner, where a woman was belting along with a karaoke machine.

To him, it was almost overwhelming, but Oikawa merely took a moment to analyze who was in the space, and then, with Sugawara in one hand and his boyfriend in the other, headed for the bar.

“Daichi! I want to introduce you to someone! Oh, hey Kuroo. Bokuto.”

“Hey,” responded a man sitting at the bar with dark hair styled in a terrible bed head. Another man, with his head lying on the table, groaned in what Suga assumed was also a greeting.

“Daichi!” Oikawa whined, looking up and down the length of the bar. “Kuroo, where’s Daichi?”

The black-haired one took a sip from his beer. “He’s in the back. Getting more whiskey.”

Oikawa wrinkled his nose, sitting in one of the bar stools. “Whose ordering whiskey?”

The other guy groaned again in what could be either an apology or a confession. Kuroo leaned over and stage-whispered to Iwaizumi, “Akaashi has a boyfriend.”

Oikawa winced and the man moaned, “I love him so much. His new boyfriend is an asshole too.”

“No, he’s not,” Kuroo corrected.

“No, he’s not,” Bokuto sobbed. “And that makes it worse!”

“He’s hot, too,” Kuroo added, only worsening Bokuto’s visible dismay.

“So, _somehow_ , you drank all my bottom-shelf Tennessee whiskey, so you better be satisfied with the imported stuff,” A voice called from the back.

“Issss fiine,” Bokuto slurred.

A man appeared in the doorway from the backroom, lumbering back over to the bar and plopping a dark bottle on the counter. Something about the man’s features was vaguely familiar, something in the set tilt of his mouth and his strong jawline. Clearly, the man thought the same of Suga, because after breezing past Oikawa and Iwaizumi, his gaze froze on Suga’s for a second too long.

Finally, the bartender snapped his fingers, saying, “Balcony guy.”

“Mr. Stranger.”

There was silence, and then Oikawa threw his hands into the air, pouting. “You two know each other, and you didn’t even tell me?”

“Not exactly?” Suga said, looking at the bartender.

“I was walking home after closing up and I saw…” The man paused, probably trying to figure out what to call him.

“Koushi Sugawara, but people call me Suga.”

“I saw Suga,” the bartender amended, with a smile, “On his balcony and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t about to do anything rash.”

“That was it,” Suga assured Oikawa.

“I’m Daichi Sawamura, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

While most parties involved were satisfied by the explanation, Oikawa was not _most parties_. Rather, he threw himself dramatically against his boyfriend, sighing, “Clearly I have no purpose tonight. Daichi, please make me something that will get me wasted as quickly as possible.”

“Same as last night?” Daichi asked, raising a single amused brow.

“Whatever. Give me a shot of tequila too.”

“Drama queen,” Iwaizumi muttered, but notably wrapped an arm around Oikawa’s waist, rather than push him off _._ With considerably less dramatics, he said, “I’ll take a beer. What I had last night was good.”

“Got it.” Daichi buzzed around the bar, pouring Iwaizumi’s beer first and then starting on Oikawa’s drink. “And for you, Suga?”

“Just a Sprite. I don’t really drink.”

“One Sprite, coming up.”

“Hey, I’m Kuroo, by the way.” Suga looked up from the bartender to see the black-haired man holding out a hand. “This is Bokuto.”

Suga shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Suga. Oikawa’s roommate.”

“I’m so sorry for you.” Kuroo shook his head in mock solemnity.

“Fuck you,” Oikawa said, slamming down his shot. “I’m a fucking delight to be around. Anyways, Suga, Daichi, Daichi, Suga. Suga is a writer, we went to high school together. Talk or whatever. Iwa,” Oikawa turned to Iwazumi, “I want to sing karaoke, let’s go.”

Mouthing, “I’m so sorry,” Iwaizumi allowed himself to be dragged off by his boyfriend.

“Oh, Oikawa.” Daichi muttered, “Never change.” He slid a glass over to Suga. “Your Sprite.”

“Thank you.” Suga sipped on the drink, pleased to taste no alcohol. “So you’re Iwaizumi’s roommate?”

“Yep,” Daichi said, leaning against the bar. “Since college. And you and Oikawa?”

“Yeah. Same with us, since college. So you own the bar?”

Daichi smiled, an easy, confident smile. “Yeah. I had a bartending job when I was in college and I really liked it.” With little ceremony, he topped off Bokuto’s whiskey, causing the man to groan approvingly in response. “I mean I wouldn’t say I love to hang out with drunk people all day, but I like to meet people. It’s just…” He trailed off, flushing a bit. “Nevermind, it's a little embarrassing.”

“Oh?” Suga asked, suddenly intrigued. “Come on, you can’t just leave me hanging like that!”

Daichi paused before he kept talking, but it looked less like the action of a man who was hesitating and more of a man that liked to think his words through carefully. “Everyone is unique, you know? And it might sound stupid, but I like remembering that. Everyone who orders a drink from me is different and I’d gladly spend my night just talking with them and learning about them.”

Excited by the turn of the conversation, Suga nodded enthusiastically. “I completely agree! That’s why I started writing. Everyone has their own stories and, as a writer, I get to tell them and I think that’s kind of fascinating.”

“Nerds,” Kuroo snickered, helpfully.

Unphased, Daichi rolled his eyes. “The first time we met in high school, you insulted me by referencing a hormone. I don’t think you’re allowed to call _us_ nerds.”

Kuroo lifted his beer in a mock toast. “You got me there, Dai.”

“Anyways,” Daichi continued, turning back to Suga. “How is it possible that our roommates are dating and we’ve never met before?”

Suga shrugged. “I like observing people from a distance.”

“Like from a balcony?” Daichi asked, smirking.

“Precisely,” Suga agreed. “I’m not…” He struggled to find the barest words that would work. Despite being a writer, formulating eloquent words on the fly was not exactly his strong suit. “Adept at socializing and I don’t really go out very often. Even if Oikawa had people over at the apartment, I would go and spend the night at my friend Kiyoko’s. Oikawa only dragged me out here because he thinks I need to make more friends. Or a boyfriend, I guess.”

Daichi laughed, pouring himself a glass of water from the tap. “That does sound like Oikawa. Well,” he said, lifting his drink to toast with Suga’s, “You can tell him you made another friend tonight.”

Smiling, Suga clinked his glass with Daichi’s. “Thanks.”

Then someone called for another round of shots, and Daichi obeyed, pouring out drinks and collecting tabs. Suga searched the crowd for Oikawa, and saw him swaying on the karaoke stage, singing, offkey, some pop song that Suga remembered hearing on the radio. The rest of the patrons were unrecognizable faces that blurred together, one after another. The sheer mass of the people in the bar was overwhelming on its own, so Suga turned back around to the counter, nursing his soda.

Daichi mixed another drink for Oikawa, and then there seemed to be a break in drink-ordering, because he ran a washcloth up and down the counter and settled himself in front of Suga again.

“So, Suga, what do you write?”

Unintentionally, Suga flushed. This question always came up when he told people what he did for a living, but he still hadn't gotten over the initial embarrassment of it. “Uh, mainly romance. A lot of LGBT, new adult romance, specifically.”

Daichi tilted his head, not _judgey,_ thankfully, but _curious._ “Really? That’s not what I would have expected.”

Suddenly interested, Suga asked, “What would you expect?”

“Hm,” Daichi hummed. He rocked back on his heels, looking Suga over like he was seeing him for the first time. “Speculative fiction.”

Suga’s eyebrows shot up, intrigued by the guess. “Really?”

“Mhm. Something experimental about the nature of humanity.”

“I’d read that.”

Their conversation was interrupted, however, as Oikawa draped himself onto the bar, shouting to be heard over the noise. “Hey! Daichi! Gimme another!”

“Coming right up.”

Oikawa turned to Suga, putting a somber hand on his shoulder. “I love you so much, Koushi.” Daichi slid the drink to Oikawa, and Oikawa put his other hand on Daichi’s shoulder. “And I love you too Daichi. I hope,” he seemed to lose his train of thought for a moment, but continued, “I hope everything works out.” He accepted his drink and lifted it in a toast. “I’m so _fucking_ drunk. See you later, you useless homosexuals!”

Daichi snorted, and Oikawa stumbled back towards Iwaizumi across the room.

Sounding offended, Bokuto moaned, “He didn’t say he loves _me._ ”

“And I’m actually bisexual,” Kuroo muttered, tipping back the last of his drink.

Completely ignoring Bokuto and Kuroo and turning to Suga, Daichi raised an eyebrow. “What was that about?”

Suga shrugged, but he knew that the tips of his ears were burning. _Why do I feel like you’re trying to get me laid tonight?_ “Well, knowing Oikawa… he probably wants us to hook up.”

“Do it,” Bukoto moaned. “Before one of you gets a hotter boyfriend and the other one regrets it for the rest of his life.”

Patting his back, Kuroo crooned, “Okay, buzzkill. Let’s let them have their moment.”

“Um,” Suga started. “Yeah, I’m sorry about him. It’s my fault, I haven’t dated anyone in a really long time and he…”

“Meddles?” Daichi finished. “Yeah, I just got out of a relationship and Oikawa has tried to set me up almost every night for the last week or so.”

Suga winced. “I was wondering why he hadn’t sent on a blind date recently.”

Suddenly, Bokuto sat up, grabbing Kuroo’s hands drunkenly. “I have an incredible idea,” he slurred. “I need to make Akaashi jealous!”

Kuroo snorted. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, so-so, so I need you to be my fake boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend, huh?” Kuroo chuckled, clapping his friend on the back. “I don’t think my _real_ boyfriend would take too kindly to that. Besides, Akaashi knows you too well. He’d see through us in a second.”

With that, Bokuto sank back onto the counter, pouting. He shoved his empty glass at Daichi, but the bartender just gave him a pitying look.

Kuroo sighed, “Alright, I think that’s enough for tonight.” He tossed a few bills onto the counter. “He has training in the morning, anyways,” he said, pointing to Bokuto. “Come on, up, up.”

He heckled his friend until Bokuto was on his feet, and then the two shuffled out of the bar.

Daichi let out a laugh and returned to making drinks, but Suga was still mulling over the last bit of that conversation.

_Fake boyfriend, huh?_

Eyeing Suga over a cocktail shaker, Daichi raised an eyebrow. “That looks like a scheming face.”

Suga glanced around, spotting Oikawa and Iwaizumi a good distance away, across the bar, talking to someone that Suga didn’t recognize. _Perfect._ He turned back to Daichi, who progressively looked more and more amused.

“How do you feel about lying to all of our friends?”

  
  


The plan was simple: convince all their friends (Oikawa, mostly) that Daichi and Suga were dating and then Oikawa wouldn’t force them to go on another blind date again.

Daichi was sure it wouldn’t work, but this man he just met, Suga, was confident that it _would_ and if they did it right, they could buy themselves at least another six months without meddling from their friends in their love life.

Another six months that Daichi desperately needed to get over Hayato before broaching another romantic relationship.

“If we’re going to do this,” Suga continued, “We’re going to need to set some ground rules.”

Daichi watched, intrigued, as Suga produced a paper and pen from who-knows-where ( _I’m a writer, Daichi, of course I have a notebook on me!_ ) and wrote a number one. He tapped the pen against his beauty mark and Daichi couldn’t help but wonder if he did that on purpose, or if it was a nervous habit that just so happened to line up with the dot.

“Rule number one,” Suga said, grinning. “Don’t fall in love with me.”

Daichi laughed. “Cheeky.”

“But actually,” Suga continued, “We should talk about physical consent and stuff.”

“I’d say nothing other than holding hands,” Daichi suggested. “Or cuddling I guess, if we’re hanging out in a group setting.”

“Right, it's not like Tooru is going to grab us and force us to kiss in order to prove that we’re _actually_ dating.” Suga hesitated, the pen pausing at his bottom lip, then said, “Nevermind, that sounds like something he would do.”

“Nothing other than holding hands _unless_ the situation calls for it,” Daichi amended. “Like Oikawa grabbing our faces and forcing us to kiss in front of him because he’s too invested in his friends’ love lives.”

“Agreed.”

The two of them went through the list, outlining every element that would be needed in order to create the lie.

“Dates,” Suga said, reaching number five on the list. “People in relationships do that, right?”

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you write romance?”

Suga flushed and Daichi was strangely amused that the comment seemed to fluster the man. “Yes, but usually there’s… other stuff happening in their lives and they don’t exactly have time to go to the movies or have coffee together. I wouldn’t say the couples in my novels have traditional…” He struggled to find the word. Somehow getting even redder, he continued, “Courtships?”

“Yes, we should go on dates,” Daichi laughed. “Once a week or so will work. They’ll look like dates but we can treat them like… platonic hangouts of sorts.”

Suga wrote on the paper, _Dates once a week._ He hesitated, then said, “Oikawa is going to ask us on a double date with him and Iwaizumi.”

Daichi resisted a groan. “I know.”

_The rules:_

  1. _Dates once a week._
  2. _No telling family._
  3. _Avoid group dates/functions._
  4. _No kissing._
  5. _No falling in love._



“Did you really have to add that last one?”

Suga grinned, tucking the paper into his pocket. “Of course not, but it sounded more dramatic that way.”

“Ah, there’s the published author.”

Suga laughed, just as a large group, a bachelor party if Daichi guessed correctly, entered the bar.

“Looks like it's getting kind of busy,” Suga commented, also noticing the group.

Sighing a little, Daichi agreed. His conversation with Suga had been short, and he found himself disappointed by it ending so quickly. “Yeah, probably.”

“I’ll let you do your job, then.” He scribbled onto a piece of paper torn from his journal, sliding it over the counter. “My number. I have a deadline coming up, so I should work on that, but, it was really nice to meet you, Daichi.”

“You too,” Daichi said, slightly surprising himself with how much he truly meant the words.

Suga smiled once more, gave a sarcastic salute, and retreated to a booth, alone and tucked away from the mass of the crowd. For the rest of the night, everytime Daichi glanced in his direction, he was either staring at another patron, head tilted, pen tapping at his lip, or frantically scribbling into his notebook.

It was kind of cute, the ferocity at which Suga threw himself into his work.

Some poor soul approached Suga’s booth, very obviously flirting, but whatever Suga said in response wasn’t ideal, because they sulked away a minute later, cheeks red. Suga caught Daichi’s eye and mimed shooting himself in the head. Daichi couldn’t help from laughing, and Suga grinned, clearly pleased, before returning to his frantic writing.

Yeah, he’d definitely do for a fake boyfriend.


	2. The One Where They Break Rule One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They (kind of) break rule one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M U S I C F E L L A S:
> 
> Mr Loverman by Ricky Montgomery (great song and super relevant to the chapter)  
> Cereal by Cavetown (not as relevant, but it slaps)

_1\. Dates once a week._

Suga arrived early for their first date. People did that, right? It wasn’t weird to pace for five minutes outside of the agreed upon coffeeshop, checking his phone and debating on whether or not to go inside. Right?

Eventually, he settled on _it was weird_ , and just went inside.

Daichi had picked the location for their date, explaining that it was in between their apartments and he had a friend that worked there, so it was his usual place anyways. It was a cute little coffee shop, quiet and quaint, with a pretty, albeit obviously bored, barista behind the counter. His name tag read, _Akaashi._

“Mocha, please. Medium.” Suga said, when the man waved him forward. Then, before he could chicken out of it, asked, “Are you Bokuto’s friend, Akaashi?”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow, but didn’t otherwise scream or accuse Suga of a stalker. Instead, he said, “Unfortunately. How do you know Bokuto?”

“Oh, I met him at Daichi’s bar the other night. He mentioned you. Um, congrats on the hot boyfriend, I guess.”

“Thanks.” Suga was starting to think that it wasn’t that Akaashi was bored, necessarily, but maybe his face was just always _that_ stoic, as Akaashi handed over Suga’s receipt with his persistently placid expression. “But that was a lie.”

Suga’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“I was trying to see if I could make him jealous.”

“Oh,” Suga said, not particularly liking the irony of the conversation, especially considering the dialogue he had overheard between Kuroo and Bokuto that had sparked their scheme. “Do you think it worked?”

Akaashi frowned, the first sign of true emotion on his face. “I don’t know. Kuroo won’t tell me, and I haven’t seen Bokuto yet today.”

“Hey!” Suga turned and saw Daichi, looking handsome and happy and well-rested. He grinned at Suga, then turned to the counter. “How’s it going, Akaashi?”

“Fine. Your usual?” The little bit of frustration that had appeared on Akaashi’s face wiped clean, and he set about ringing up Daichi’s order.

Daichi turned to Suga then, offering another smile that, if he guessed correctly, had a few more nerves behind it than usual. “Want to find a table?”

“Sure. It was nice to meet you, Akaashi. I hope everything works out with Bokuto.”

“Me too,” Akaashi muttered into a mug, almost too quiet for Suga to hear.

“So you met Akaashi?” Daichi asked, once the two had settled on a table next to the window with their hot drinks.

“Yeah,” Suga said, glancing over to the counter, briefly. “He and Bokuto are…”

“Something?” Daichi supplied. “Yeah, been like that since high school. They definitely deserve each other.”

Suga laughed, playing with the sleeves of his sweater, before seemingly realizing what he was doing and stopping the fidgeting. Daichi had to admit that it was a little startling to compare Suga from last night to the Suga in front of him, fashion wise. It was pretty obvious now that Oikawa had dressed Suga that night, maybe even with Oikawa’s own clothes, because the pale cardigan and well-worn jeans were miles away from _that_ Suga.

Although Daichi had to admit, he liked _this_ Suga better.

There was something in the earnest cotton that was comforting to him.

His ex, Hayato, had worn his clothes like a shield. Harsh armor he took to battle against his strict parents, his business associates, his boss, against _Daichi_. Suga, on the other hand, reminded him more of a blanket. Nurturing and warm.

Who was he kidding? It was _clothing_.

Unconsciously, his grip tightened on his coffee. Besides, he needed to stop comparing everyone and everything to _Hayato._ The man had left him, after admitting to cheating on him for months, no less. Their relationship had been awful, so it was hardly a benchmark for any potential up-and-coming suitors to pass. Not that Suga _was_ a suitor, that was exactly why they _were doing this._

Daichi managed to snap out of his thoughts just as Suga said, “I’m going to send a picture to Oikawa. Is that alright? He told me he wouldn’t believe that I _actually_ went on a date of my own volition unless it was on my Instagram story”

“Oh, sure, go ahead. What should I do?”

“Hm…” Suga considered the image on his phone with a careful eye. “Be natural? I don’t know, talk about something, I guess?”

“Okay… how about I tell you about the time that Kuroo thought it was a good idea to bring a bottle of vodka to our joint volleyball training camp in high school.”

“Oh, please do,” Suga said, briefly typing something into his phone before setting it back on the table. “I got the picture, but now I’m intrigued.”

“Oikawa texted back. It just says, ‘Good job dorks.’”

“I’d call that a success.”

Suga laughed.

On the day of what was supposed to be their second outing, Daichi awoke to the sound of his phone buzzing on his nightstand. Based on the afternoon light filtering through his window blinds, and the _11:37_ on his alarm clock, he had probably gotten a good eight hours of sleep, after closing and the walk home around 3 AM the night before, but he still felt drowsy. It took him more than a few minutes to blink the last of his sleep out his eyes and find the energy to sit up.

Yawning, he finally picked up his phone to read the notification that had woken him up.

_From Suga <3 _

_i’m really sry to do this but i’ve ben up all nite trying to finish this gd chapter and my editor needs to see it today and its still not done and i really really need to finish it, can we postpone??_

It took Daichi an embarrassing three times to read the text and understand exactly what Suga was trying to say. He thought over his response as he pulled on clean jeans.

_To Suga <3 _

_Wow… already breaking rule number one… disappointed in you tbh :(_

_From Suga <3 _

_I’M SO SORRY_

_To Suga <3 _

_I’m kidding!!! You’re totally fine!! Go finish your chapter, author boy_

_From Suga <3 _

_:D_

The cute little text emoji had Daichi grinning, but something still bugged at him. He was telling the truth when he said it was no big deal (it really was _not_ a big deal), but deep down, he recognized the sinking feeling in his chest as the dull pangs of disappointment.

“Why am I so upset about him cancelling?” Daichi wondered quietly to himself, ruffling his short hair and closing his bedroom door behind him.

“Aren’t you dating? Of course you’re upset,” said a voice that was definitely _not_ his roommate.

After a cursory glance of the living room, Daichi spotted the culprit. Oikawa, lounging on one of his couches like a Victorian woman that had just been diagnosed with the vapors, was staring at him, one hand thrown over his forehead dramatically. 

“Why are you here? You don’t live here.”

Oikawa sighed again, somehow sinking even deeper into the couch. “Same reason your boyfriend cancelled on you.” He twirled a bored finger in the air. “Deadlines. Suga needed quiet, so I’m here. Guess I’m just too much of a distraction.”

“You’re a distraction, all right.” Iwaizumi commented, appearing in the kitchen doorway. “Tooru, what do you want for lunch?”

“Mmmm, surprise me!”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but returned to the kitchen. “Absolutely no help, thank you, love.”

“Welcome, babe. Speaking of which,” Oikawa drawled, pulling out his phone. “I should order food to be delivered to the apartment, otherwise Suga will forget to eat.”

Daichi blinked. “He’s not that helpless, is he?”

Pursing his lips, Oikawa seemed to ponder the question. “Not necessarily. Sometimes he’s stupidly independent. He just gets so focused on deadlines and his career that he forgets to take care of himself, physically, emotionally, socially, you name it.”

Iwaizumi’s snort could be heard from the other room. “Sounds like someone else I know!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Oikawa shouted back. “Do you think he’s in a sushi mood today?”

“Actually,” Daichi interrupted. “I can grab something for him. Your apartment is on the way to the bar, and our usual coffee shop is along that route, too, so I can get him some coffee and a sandwich or something.”

“Aw, I knew you would be a good boyfriend to my little Koushi!” Oikawa said, gleefully, nudging at Daichi’s side with his foot. “And this way I don’t have to pay for delivery costs!”

“You’re a terrible person,” Iwaizumi commented, peeking out from the kitchen doorway once again. Oikawa stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend, but only got a raised eyebrow in response. “Mature, too.”

Daichi elected to leave now, before their snide comments turned into them making out on the couch, as it often did.

“Right, well, I’m gonna head out.”

“M’kay,” Oikawa hummed, already finding something on his phone more interesting than anything else in his vicinity. “Don’t buy Suga anything with mayo on it.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

Fortunately, Akaashi’s coffee shop also sold food, so Daichi only had to make one stop for Suga’s coffee and sandwich. Unfortunately, that one stop also happened to contain Bokuto and Kuroo, who were both nursing an afternoon coffee together.

“Daichi!” Bokuto called, as soon as he stepped into the store.

Sighing a little to himself, Daichi lumbered over to their table. “What’s up, guys?”

Kuroo leaned forward, eyes glinting with something that Daichi didn’t trust. “Akaashi told us that you and your man have a weekly date here at this time.”

“We’re here to spy on you,” Bokuto admitted with a grin, making Kuroo throw his hands up with an indignant _huff!_

“We can’t _spy_ if they know we’re spying!”

“Oops.”

“Well,” Daichi broke in, before they could continue arguing. “Tough luck spying, because Suga had to cancel today. And I’ll be changing what day we meet so this,” he waved a hand at the two of them, “never happens.”

“Damn,” Bokuto muttered into his drink.

On the other hand, Kuroo didn’t seem that perturbed, rather, leaning back in his chair and tapping a finger on the table. “How is that going by the way? Finally over Hayato?”

_I’ll never be over Hayato._

“I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t the question,” Kuroo countered, with a wry grin.

“Maybe not, but it's the answer I’m giving. I have to go, I promised I’d get Suga lunch-”

Kuroo kept talking as if Daichi hadn’t even opened his mouth, “Oikawa might think that the best way to get over an ex is to find a new man, but you and I both know it's just cruel to Sugawara. Does he know?”

“Does he know what?”

“Does he know,” Kuroo continued, “That your ex was an asshole that led you on for almost six months and was cheating on you the whole time?”

Daichi’s mouth was suddenly very dry. “It hasn’t come up.”

“Bring it up. Or I will.” Kuroo then, as if he hadn’t just delivered a killing blow to one of his best friends, said, “Anyways, how’s the sex?”

“Please stop talking.”

Daichi hesitated with his hand poised to knock on Suga’s apartment door. Maybe this was a bad idea. He should just leave the food and the coffee and text him that it was there and by the time that Suga got the text, Daichi would be on his way to the bar.

No, why was he overthinking this? It was just _lunch._

Before he could keep doubting himself, Daichi knocked on Suga’s door.

At first, he thought that maybe Suga hadn’t heard him, because the apartment stayed silent. Just as Daichi was wondering that maybe he was on the balcony, he heard, from the other side of the door, some shuffling, a _thunk_ , and a muffled, “ _shit!”_ before the door was flung open.

Suga looked tired. No, he looked _exhausted_ , with bags under his eyes and a sweater that was somehow frumpier than any other cardigan of Suga’s that Daichi had seen. Most of all, however, he looked confused.

“Lunch delivery?” Daichi offered, holding up the bag and the coffee. “Uh, Oikawa mentioned that you might forget to eat lunch, so I figured I’d bring you some.”

“Oh!” Suga said, face brightening into something that could rival the sun. “I haven’t eaten since… lunch yesterday? I think?”

“Suga,” Daichi chastised.

Suga winced, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “I know, I know, but that’s why I have an incredible fake boyfriend to bring me lunch!”

Daichi laughed, handing the food over. “Right. Well, I’ll leave you to finish your chapter.”

“Wait! What time do you have to be at the bar?”

“I need to be there to help my employee with the after-work rush… so 4ish?”

Suga seemed to debate something for a minute, before asking, hesitantly, “Do you want to hang out until then? I have to write, so I won’t be much for entertainment, but I feel bad for cancelling our fake date at the last minute.”

“Didn’t you kick Oikawa out for being a distraction?”

“I kicked Oikawa out because he’s _Oikawa_ ,” Suga corrected, with a grin. “And I’m gonna be honest, I’m only inviting you inside in case I forget the word _pineapple_ because I’m running on, like, three hours of sleep _._ ”

Daichi snorted. “Wow, you only want me to be your walking thesaurus. As your fake boyfriend, I’m offended.”

Suga’s smile dropped a little, and he added, “You don’t have to. I mean, if you have stuff to do…”

“Suga,” Daichi interrupted. “Of course I want to hang out with you. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Suga brightened again, opening the door more for Daichi to come in. “Sorry for the mess, I-”

“It’s fine, Suga.”

Truthfully, it was more than fine. Daichi’s apartment was rarely clean, so Suga’s in comparison was practically spotless, other than a few mugs scattered on the coffee table and a pile of blankets on the couch.

This wasn’t Daichi’s first time in Suga’s apartment. Oikawa had hosted a few get togethers before that Daichi had graciously gotten invited to by extension of being Iwaizumi’s friend. Each time, Suga had been absent. This was, however, the first time Daichi had been in the apartment after meeting the elusive roommate. Now the presence of _Suga_ in the apartment was almost overwhelming, and it was hard to imagine ever not knowing the man with how much of their apartment was so clearly his.

The bookshelf, although containing more than a few books about volleyball, injuries, and biographies of famous athletes (very clearly _Oikawa’s_ ), also had a large section of classic English literature and YA fiction that Oikawa wouldn’t be caught dead reading. Set off from the others, there was a small collection of novels, some even in other languages, all bearing the name _Koushi Sugawara_ on the front, which for some reason filled Daichi with a certain sense of pride. Also on the bookshelf was a framed picture of a high school volleyball team. In the photo, Daichi easily spotted Oikawa in the front, flashing a peace sign, and Iwaizumi next to him, rolling his eyes. On the other side of Oikawa was Suga, laughing at his friends.

Daichi turned away from the bookshelf, looking for other clues of Suga in the apartment. An orange blanket (Oikawa was vocal about his dislike of the color orange). A mug in the sink with some kitschy slogan about authors. A spare sweater and scarf hanging next to the door. More blooming houseplants by the window.

It was an odd thing, being able to so accurately pinpoint someone’s influence over a space, especially considering the fact that the two had only really known each other for two or three weeks, and yet, Daichi could only smile as the apartment was recontextualized before him…

And then he looked at the TV.

He forgot to turn off the TV. It had been an impulse decision to invite Daichi in, one he was already regretting because he _forgot to turn off the TV._

As Daichi seemed entertained by merely glancing around the apartment ( _hadn’t he been here before?_ ), Suga tried desperately to look for the remote. Not on the coffee table, not in his pocket, not under the pile of blankets.

Then Daichi turned towards the TV and Suga prepared to die inside as he anticipated Daichi’s response. Instead, however, the man merely took in the reality show (currently boasting a woman throwing a glass of water at her friend for insulting her nails) with a nod and said, “Choice.”

“I can’t write when it's silent,” Suga said, immediately. It sounded rehearsed. It _was_ rehearsed. “I need the background noise.”

“Sure.” Daichi had a knowing smile on his face, but otherwise refrained from judgement and made himself comfortable on the loveseat to watch the show.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. He _did_ need background noise, which was often why he wrote on the balcony when the apartment was too silent, late at night. But truthfully, deep down, the reason was that he _loved_ trashy TV.

Still, Daichi didn’t seem particularly turned off by the show, rather already looking fairly invested in the non-existent plot, so Suga left it on and returned to his writing, pulling out the food Daichi had brought for him to eat (Suga also gleefully noted the lack of mayo) as he finished the chapter that Yachi needed. He was almost done. Really just another half an hour and the dialogue would be done. It wouldn’t necessarily be _good_ just yet, but it would be _done_.

He almost had the scene wrapped up when Daichi finally spoke again, eyes still staring at the TV.

“I… I feel like I should warn you that Kuroo might bring up my ex the next time you see him.”

Suga frowned, pausing with his hands on his keyboard. “What about them?”

From the way he shrugged, Suga could tell Daichi was trying to be nonchalant about it, but there was tension in his shoulders and a tightness in his voice that betrayed him. “He wasn’t… the best guy. When he broke up with me, he told me that he had been cheating on me the whole six months while we were dating and was in love with another man, so…” He chuckled a little, trying to play it off as no big deal. “But Kuroo knows that I’m not… entirely over him yet. He wasn’t really on board with Oikawa trying to set us up.”

Suga chewed his lip, trying to think of what to say. Obviously he knew that Daichi had his own reasons for wanting their fake relationship, but he hadn’t expected it to be to get over an ex. It was hard to grasp the idea that anyone would cheat on someone like _Daichi,_ someone with his passion and humor and kindness and _~~thighs~~. _

“I’m sorry,” was what Suga settled on. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been… do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I just figured you should hear it from me and not Kuroo.”

“Thank you for telling me, and… I’m here for you. When or if you want to talk about it.”

“Thanks,” Daichi said, but the words were thick. He cleared his throat, then said, “So what’s going on in this show exactly? I’ve been watching this for almost twenty minutes and I have no clue why they’re fighting.”

“Oh, no one does,” Suga assured him, and considered it a victory when Daichi laughed.

Suga finished the chapter, _finally,_ and Daichi stayed until the end of the next episode ( _Hey, I'm hooked, I can't walk away from it now!_ ), but then he had to head to work. Suga took a little pride in the fact that he seemed hesitant to leave, lingering at the doorway to wave goodbye, before disappearing into the hallway.

_From Kind-of-Boyfriend_

_FYI, I'm not counting that as our weekly fake-date_

_To Kind-of-Boyfriend_

_Dang, I guess I'm just just gonna have to fake take you out this week :/_

_From Kind-of-Boyfriend_

_I guess so :///_

_From Kind-of-Boyfriend_

_Wait like on a date or with a gun_

_To Kind-of-Boyfriend_

_We'll see ;)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite ships are the ones with two dumbasses (looking at you, bokuaka). Also, I forgot to plug my tumblr last chapter?  
> follow my haikyuu side blog for chapter updates and mediocre SMAU's: oikawa-tuwu


	3. The One Where They Break Rule Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They break rule two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H*ck yeah, music time:  
> Nobody, Mitski  
> Will I Find My Home (Acoustic Version), Juniper Vale ft. Vian Izak

_ 2\. Don’t tell family. _

Suga stared at his mother’s contact screen for a few more minutes than was strictly necessary before pressing the  _ call _ button. It was 6 PM on a Thursday, the date and time that he always set aside specifically for calls home to placate his  _ enthusiastic _ mother, in order to curb her impulse to randomly visit her only son in the city. On his left sat a notebook with talking points, just in case he forgot the most amusing anecdotes from the week, and on his right was a glass of water.

When Oikawa first saw his notebook with the notes scrawled on the page, he had made fun of Suga.

The fact of the matter was, some people in high school had called Suga  _ too much _ , either too enthusiastic or too weird or too loud (in certain circles), but he had learned how to be  _ too much _ from his mother. Any pause for breath would invite an intense interrogation on what was wrong (nothing), was life in the city everything he had dreamed it to be (no, but he wouldn’t tell her that), or when was he planning on moving back home and starting a family (never).

Or worse, she’d ask about his dating life.

So instead Suga filled a page about the fan that saw him in the subway or the soup he tried that tasted exactly like grandma’s or Iwaizumi’s two page long rant about how much he loves his friends that he accidentally sent into the group chat while he was drunk the other night.

Nothing on the page mentioned Daichi.

He pressed the call button.

“And did you know that Suzuki’s oldest daughter is expecting now?”

Suga hummed, outlining a terrible drawing of a crow in the margins of his notebook, honestly, only half-listening. “I didn’t know that.”

Through the sounds of his mother making herself a cup of tea, Suga heard her sigh. “I can’t believe you kids are adults now.”

“How do you think we feel?” The crow was starting to look more like a dot with wings, so he scribbled it out and started on drawing a volleyball.

His mom laughed. “Speaking of being adults, how’s my little author doing? Your new editor isn’t pushing you too hard, right?”

“No, Yachi’s great. Sometimes I feel like I’m pushing myself harder than she’s pushing me, but she’s getting better about it. I actually got a strongly worded text message about my dismal progress on the manuscript, so I think that’s an improvement.”

“Well, good for her.”

Behind him, the front door opened and closed, and Suga glanced back to see Oikawa trudge into the apartment, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch, dropping his gym bag on the coffee table with a  _ thud! _

“What was that?” Suga’s mom asked. “I thought I heard something fall.”

“It’s just Oikawa.” Suga adjusted himself to turn to his roommate, tucking his phone under one ear. “How was training?”

“Ugh.”

“So the usual?”

“Oh, Tooru,” his mother cooed into his ear. “Let me talk to Tooru!”

Suga rolled his eyes. “I get it, you don’t want to talk to your only son or whatever.”

Oikawa sat up so fast he almost got whiplash, his mood turning in an instant. He reached out, grabbing at Suga’s phone, childishly petulant. “Gimme, gimme.”

Against his better judgement, Suga sighed and passed the phone over.

“Hi, Mrs. Sugawara! No, I didn’t know about Ms. Suzuki!” Oikawa prattled on, matching Suga’s mother’s enthusiasm with an energy that Sugawara could never seem to replicate these days. “Iwaizumi is great, thank you for asking! We’re actually thinking about moving in together! Yes, thank you, he  _ is  _ a wonderful boy. Don’t worry, Koushi is behaving. I’m personally making sure he’s taking care of himself.”

Suga stuck his tongue out at Oikawa, who gleefully ignored him, instead, listening to Suga’s mom ask her next question.

“Hm… he doesn’t, does he? Well, if he won’t tell you about his  _ romantic exploits _ , I guess I’ll just have to step in.”

Suga’s eyes widened. 

_ Rule number two: don’t tell family. _

“No,” he hissed to Oikawa. “Stop! Do not tell her about-”

Oikawa shoved his hand in Suga’s face, leaning further away so Suga’s phone was just barely out of his reach. “Actually, I set him up with Iwaizumi’s roommate and they’ve been going on  _ coffee dates  _ together. I know! Coffee dates! Trust me, he’s a very nice man. He owns his own business, very hardworking,  _ very  _ handsome! Your son is in good hands, Mrs. Sugawara-”

Suga’s hand finally closed around his phone and he yanked it back from Oikawa, who grinned his shit-eating grin when Suga shot him a glare.

He took a single, careful, deep breath, and asked, “Is there any chance you can forget everything Oikawa just told you?”

“WHAT?!” His mother screeched, so loudly that Suga had to hold his phone away from his ear. “Of course not! How long has this been going on?!”

Cursing the stars and cursing  _ Oikawa _ , Suga sighed, “Three weeks?”

“I have to meet him.”

“ _ No, mom. _ ”

Daichi was going to kill him.

Daichi was early to their date at their usual coffee shop. He hadn’t meant to be, but something had pushed him to get out of bed earlier, to shower quicker, to get dressed faster, and then he was sitting on his couch with half an hour left until he had to leave. Even on his way there, he had apparently walked faster than usual, and now he was exactly twelve minutes early.

Even Akaashi seemed tight-lipped today, taking his order efficiently, with significantly less idle chatter for  _ Akaashi’s  _ standards. So, he ordered his drink and snagged their favorite table, content to read something on his phone until their agreed time. Only a minute later, however, the door opened, revealing a flustered and tired Suga, muttering something under his breath. He was so entranced in his own frustrations that he didn’t even notice Daichi, so Daichi, amused, just watched as he ordered his drink from a vaguely confused Akaashi and ran a hand through his messier-than-usual hair and frowned at something on his phone, before accepting his coffee and automatically heading towards their table.

“Hey,” Daichi said, as soon as Suga was close enough to hear.

Suga jumped, finally looking up from his phone. He gaped at Daichi. “Why- are… what?”

Amused by the fluster on Suga’s cheeks, Daichi smirked. “Why are you so surprised that I’m early?”

“Because-” Suga started, but stopped. He was fidgeting too much, putting his hands in his pockets before taking them out again and his tired eyes wouldn’t meet Daichi’s. “Nevermind. We… we need to talk.”

Dread settled at the bottom of Daichi’s gut, wiping away his grin in an instant. The last time he’d heard,  _ We need to talk,  _ Hayato had broken up with him.

_ What was he saying? His and Suga’s relationship wasn’t even real, why would he be upset with Suga breaking it off? _

Suga seemed to recognize something in Daichi’s expression, because he sat on the opposite chair and quickly amended, “Nothing bad! Well, kind of… inconvenient, I guess?”

“Okay…?”

Shoulders sagging, Suga sighed, “I broke rule number two.”

“You  _ what _ ?”

“Well, to be fair,  _ Oikawa  _ broke rule number two,” Suga countered, defensively. “ _ He  _ told my mother. And now she wants to meet you because she’s incorrigible and meddlesome.”

Daichi set down his coffee, rubbing his temples. Suddenly, Suga’s visible anxiety made sense.  _ Inconvenient, indeed. _

“Well?” Suga asked, hesitant. “I can tell her no?”

“No, it's fine. Besides,” Daichi tried for a smile. “Based on what I’ve heard about her, you can’t really tell her no, can you?”

Suga’s dry smile told him he was 100% correct.

So that was how Daichi found himself, on one of his two days off, driving him and Suga to the Sugawara household.

It was nearly an hour long drive to his fake boyfriend’s childhood home, and Suga’s directions from the passenger seat led them through a lush, green neighborhood to a yellow house with a porch swing out front.

Daichi turned the car off, but Suga hesitated with his hand on his seatbelt.

Finally, he said, “You should call me Koushi. She’ll be suspicious if you don’t call me by my given name.”

“Okay,” Daichi said. “Koushi.”

“Good.” Suga continued on as if the tips of his ears weren’t pink from embarrassment. “And… I’m sorry. In advance.”

Suga was going to live to regret this day.

Before the pair had even made it halfway to the porch, the front door swung open with the sound of a woman squealing.

“Koushi!” Suga’s mother called, already throwing herself down the stairs, pulling the both of them into a fierce hug.

Suga shot Daichi a look that he hoped said, _I told you so,_ but Daichi only offered a sheepish grin in response.

Suga’s mom stepped back, looking Daichi over with a scrutinizing eye. Earlier that day, Oikawa had gleefully informed Suga that his “adorable boyfriend” had, in fact, called him, panicking, because he didn’t know what to wear. The outfit they’d settled on wasn’t too far from his bartending uniform, just a simple blue button-up shirt and black trousers, but Suga had to admit that he looked  _ good  _ in it. He looked young, confident, well-put together, and  _ miles  _ out of Suga’s league.

Suga wondered if it would be out of line to tell Daichi that he looked handsome today. Ignoring their weird partnership in scamming everyone in their lives, they  _ were  _ still friends, right? Suga told friends that they looked good all the time. Sometimes, in Oikawa’s case, the words were coerced out of him, but he’d definitely complimented Kiyoko on her hairstyle or Iwaizumi on his dress shirt before… why was it only weird when it came to  _ Daichi? _

_ Maybe if I say “no homo” immediately after? _

“Koushi.”

Suga snapped out of his thoughts, glancing up towards the house. Daichi stood, smiling, a hand bracing a column on the porch. Apparently his mom had already gone inside, because it was only the two of them out there. The light from the open doorway framed Daichi’s body, and suddenly reality felt a lot more like a dream. It was an out-of-body experience, seeing someone from Suga’s present life in the city transplanted into this intimate place from Suga’s past.

“You okay?” Daichi asked.

“Yeah.” Suga swallowed, trying to ground himself. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a scene from one of his books. This was real life. Now he had to convince his parents of the same. “Let’s go inside.”

As soon as Suga stepped into his childhood home, he was hit with a wave of nostalgia.

Right where Daichi was taking off his shoes, there was the old chip on the floor (Dropped mug. Suga cried. It had been his favorite mug.). A picture of him and Oikawa from middle school grinned at Suga from the hallway wall. Best of, it  _ smelled  _ like his childhood, like garlic and ginger and peppers and... 

“Dad,” Suga called, flipping off his shoes and padding further down the hallway into the kitchen. “Is that…?”

“I just got done toasting the chillies,” His father grinned from his place in front of the stove, offering Suga a side hug while still continuing to stir. “Welcome home.”

“What is it?” Daichi asked, appearing next to Suga. He leaned against the counter, looking cool and confident and already at home in Sugawara’s childhood kitchen.

“Mapo tofu. It’s my favorite.” Suga poked Daichi in the shoulder. “I hope you can handle spice, because Dad does  _ not  _ go easy with the chillies.”

Daichi nodded gravely, but the smile on his face still persisted. “Oikawa warned me about that.” He turned his attention to Suga’s father, then, offering a hand for him to shake. “Hello, sir, I’m Daichi Sawamura.”

“Nice to meet you, young man,” Suga’s father grinned, shaking Daichi’s hand. “Koushi has been very tight-lipped about you.”

Daichi laughed, wholesome and whole-heartedly. “I’m sure he has.”

Unconsciously, Suga flushed.

“You okay?” Daichi asked, quietly, noticing Suga’s red cheeks.

“Just the spices,” Suga assured him. Definitely not the fact that with Daichi’s shirt unbuttoned like that, Suga could see his collarbone. Definitely not the fact that Daichi leaned closer to him whenever he spoke. Definitely not the fact that surrounded by his parents and a man that seemed to understand him like no one else, he actually felt  _ known. _

His father cleared his throat. “By the way, I think your mother is dragging out the old photo albums, if you want to try to stop her.”

“Shit!”

“This is the most humiliating thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.”

“Aw,” Daichi cooed, pointing to a picture of Suga from middle school. “You looked so cute in your volleyball uniform.”

“Yeah, and look at those pimples, too.” Suga shifted, propping his chin on his hand in a silent show of annoyance. “Mom, is this necessary?”

“Very,” his mother assured him, flipping through her own book. “Daichi needs to know what he’s getting into.”

“Yeah, Koushi.” Knocking his shoulder against Suga’s, Daichi smirked and turned to the next page.

“Oh no.”

“Is that  _ Oikawa? _ ” Daichi asked, sounding equal parts amused and horrified.

Suga crumpled, hiding his red cheeks behind his knees. That photo would continue to haunt him for the rest of his days. “I told you we were childhood friends.”

“You didn’t tell me you went to  _ prom  _ with him!”

Sure enough, it was a picture of him, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi’s date, someone from the girls volleyball team. Suga considered lying and saying it was completely platonic, but from the matching ties, matching boutonnieres, and Oikawa’s hand on Suga’s hip, he wasn’t sure Daichi would believe him.

Instead, Suga weakly corrected, “It was junior prom. And it didn’t last long because he was head over heels for Iwaizumi, trust me, it was a dark blight in my life.”

“I love that boy,” his mother sighed. “Oikawa will always be my son-in-law in my heart.”

Daichi laughed, hearty, from his gut. “Looks like I have competition.”

Suga peeked up from his knees to glance at Daichi. Sometime over the course of the night, he had rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, revealing his toned and tan forearms. He looked warm and joyful, smirking as he pulled his phone out.

“No!” Suga launched himself up, yanking Daichi’s phone away from him.

“Koushi!” Daichi complained, still grinning. He half-heartedly tried to reach for his phone back, but Suga kept it just out of his reach. “I just wanted it to blackmail Oikawa!”

“I can send you a copy, Daichi.”

“Mom!”

Daichi expected to feel guilty. He expected to have regrets. He expected to at least have  _ some  _ trouble with lying to Suga’s parents. And yet, as all four of them settled at the table for dinner, Daichi just felt  _ warm. _

Yeah. Warm was the right word.

When Daichi had met Hayato’s parents, they’d spent dinner wading through cold and awkward questions that were vaguely homophobic and _ very  _ critical. Afterwards, Daichi had felt cold and insecure and insignificant. When Hayato had told his mother that Daichi was a bartender, he’d followed it up with,  _ planning to open his own chain of bars, there’s actually a lot more money in food service than you might expect! _ It had been a lie. He didn’t want a  _ chain  _ of bars _ ,  _ he just wanted  _ his _ , and bars were exactly as risky a venture as Hayato’s business-savvy parents expected. And even then, he’d still been regarded with a healthy amount of visible distrust and dislike.

When Suga told his mom that Daichi was a bartender, she had leaned forward, eyebrows raised, and asked what his favorite drink to make was. (A Flaming Lamborghini--Sometimes guys would order it to look impressive for their dates, and Daichi enjoyed seeing them panic a little when they realized that the drink was  _ actually  _ on fire.)

It was easy. It was easy to laugh along with Suga’s mother’s antics. It was easy to accept Suga’s little moments of physical intimacy. In all honesty, the hardest part of the night was pretending that Suga’s father’s cooking wasn’t too spicy for him. Although, based entirely on Suga’s amused expression, he wasn’t pretending very well.

After dinner, Suga’s dad asked Daichi to teach him how to make an impressive cocktail. Suga tried to assure Daichi that he didn’t have to, but the bartender had just grinned and waved Suga off to the back patio where his mother was waiting.

In the backyard, away from the warmth of bodies and spices, the air was cool and refreshing, and Suga hoped it could tame his pink cheeks. Even the noise from the kitchen, his father laughing and the sounds of bottles clattering, was silenced, replaced by the sounds of the woods behind his backyard.

“Hi, Mom.”

His mother was sitting on the porch swing they had out back, rocking it back and forth gently with her foot, but she paused the movement and tapped the seat next to her. An invitation to sit.

“How have you been?” She asked, as soon as Suga took his seat. “I feel like we haven’t just talked in a long time.”

“We talked on Thursday.”

“That’s a long time, Koushi.”

The familiar feeling of guilt crawled up Suga’s windpipe. He cleared his throat. It didn't help. “Right. I’m doing well.”

"Good," Suga’s mom said, but something in her tone told him she wasn’t completely satisfied by the lackluster answer. She grinned still, nudging at Suga with her shoulder. “So… Daichi, huh?”

"Daichi," Suga repeated, a little breathlessly. "Yeah."

"He cares about you. Trust me, I can tell."

_ Can you?  _ Suga thought, a little bitterly. Were they really  _ that  _ good at pretending to be a couple, or was his mother’s judgement more skewed than she might think?

"And  _ you  _ care about him," his mom continued. "I’m glad. I’m not gonna lie, I was a little worried about you, Koushi."

"Worried about me?"

"Of course. I know you have Oikawa and Iwaizumi and they’re great, but… something changed after high school. You just seemed to have a harder time putting yourself out there. I didn’t want you to be lonely."

"I don’t really need a lot of friends. I’m happy by myself."

"Maybe sometimes," his mother agreed. "But sometimes, it's probably pretty lonely. The two are not mutually exclusive."

Suga wasn't really sure what to say to that. Sure, he was lonely sometimes, but wasn't everyone? He wasn’t sure if his  _ lonely  _ was more lonely than Oikawa’s or Daichi’s. Most of the time, he could shove the pangs in his chest into a box for later, or he could channel some of that emotion into his writing. He never let the emotion linger, so he didn’t know if he truly was lonely or not.

_ Was he lonely? _

Thankfully, he was saved from finding a response, because his mother kept talking. "There's nothing wrong with being an introvert and wanting some space once and awhile, but sometimes I think 'I'm happy alone' is a lie that you've told over and over again in order to convince yourself that it’s true.”  His mother sighed, looking at Suga with upturned eyebrows and a crinkle in her forehead that Suga recognized from his mirror. Suddenly, she looked so much older than Suga remembered. Older, and wiser, and sadder. She stood, and somehow her five foot even presence shadowed even Suga himself. “Just think about that, okay? We worry about you. And you need to visit more often! We miss you, young man.”

“I will,” Suga said, but the words were shakier than he’d meant them to be.

Suga’s mom smiled, ruffled Suga's silver hair one last time, and walked inside.

_ Loneliness.  _ Suga pondered the word over in his mind. Was he lonely? He thought about tonight, watching Daichi snicker at Suga’s childhood pictures, begging his mother not to embarrass him any further, trying to hold in his laugh as Daichi acted like his father’s cooking wasn’t too spicy for him. No, he wasn’t lonely right now.

But something lingered. Something that tugged at his heart every time a large group of friends laughed boisterously as they wandered past his balcony.

_ Was he lonely? _

“Koushi?”

Suga snapped back to reality. For the second time that day, there was Daichi. Daichi, standing in his childhood home, leaning against the bones of the house that had raised him, backlit by the lights of his upbringing. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Suga said, but, once again, his voice betrayed him.

Daichi frowned. It wasn’t a frown born of negative emotions like sadness or frustration, necessarily, but it was Daichi’s concentrating frown. It was the same expression he gave when he debated over a blueberry or a chocolate chip muffin on their weekly date. He wasn’t upset, just analyzing.

Eventually, he seemed to come to a conclusion, because he let the back door swing shut behind him and took a seat next to Suga.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Not  _ what happened?  _ Not  _ what did your mom say?  _ No, just  _ do you want to talk about it? _

“Not really.”

“Alright.”

So they didn’t talk about it. Instead, they sat on the swing, staring out at Suga’s backyard, listening to the cicadia’s chirp and buzz, relishing in the company of another warm human being, until Suga’s mom called them back inside with the promise of dessert.

Suga was too quiet as they left. Daichi itched to ask what was wrong, because there  _ was  _ something wrong, even as Suga smiled and hugged his dad goodbye and repeated, “I’m fine,” to his mom. Together, they climbed into Daichi’s car, leftovers from dinner sitting in Suga’s lap, and started on the drive home.

They had made it just outside of the neighborhood when Suga’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, and Daichi noticed a sliver of a sad smile as Suga read the message.

“My mom wants to know when you’re coming over next so she can try that cocktail that’s on fire.”

Daichi let out a laugh. He tried to ignore the voice in his head that was telling him there probably  _ wouldn’t  _ be another time. Suga would make excuses to his mom about the bar, about writing deadlines, about fake illnesses, and in a couple months, they would fake break up and life would go back to being normal again.

For some reason, the thought sent a shot of disappointment through him.

Tonight was easy. It was... fun. It chased away that ache in his chest that had bothered him for the last three months.

_ Why did it have to be so easy to be Suga’s fake boyfriend? _

_ … And why did he not want to stop? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so hyped for this chapter, you have no IDEA. (And don't worry, there will be more Bokuaka in the next chapter :D ) Anyways, check out my haikyuu side blog on tumblr for chapter updates and decent SMAU's:  
> https://oikawa-tuwu.tumblr.com/


	4. The One Where They Break Rule Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They break rule three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shows up two weeks later with Starbucks and a new one-shot. 'Sup. I honestly didn't expect this chapter to take so long?? It was giving me some troubles and I'm still not entirely happy with the pacing? But whatever, it's here now! I know I promised more Bokuaka this chapter, but there's less than I expected :/ Anyways, here's the music for this chapter! And yes, in case you can't tell, I listen to exactly five artists, so there's gonna be some repeated musicians.
> 
> Comfort Crowd, Conan Gray  
> Lemon Boy, Cavetown

3\. Avoid group dates/functions.

Suga was still thinking about loneliness.

Ever since that conversation with his mother, his mind couldn’t _stop thinking about loneliness._

_Was he lonely?_

Frustrated, Suga slammed a hand on his keyboard and groaned, falling backwards onto his bed.

“Dramatic,” Oikawa commented, sounding amused from where he had appeared in Suga’s open bedroom doorway.

It took physical effort not to roll his eyes. _Pot calling the kettle black._ Instead, he just mumbled into his duvet, “Can’t focus. Scene stupid.”

Oikawa snorted. “Sure. How about taking a break to refresh that beautiful author brain of yours?”

“What kind of break?” Suga asked, vaguely suspicious of the noun. A _break_ to Oikawa’s spontaneous flightiness could either mean a walk to a coffee shop or a two month long road trip.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be the latter, because Oikawa waved a dismissive hand and said, “Come hang out with my friends. We’re going to Kuroo’s for game night.”

The instinctual _no_ was on the tip of Suga’s tongue before he could fully process the question. Instead, he bit his lip, considering.

_Was he lonely?_

“Sure,” Suga said, finally, not missing the way that Oikawa’s eyes widened a fraction, before his face broke into a brilliant grin.

“Now how about that handsome boyfriend of yours? Do you know if he’s busy?”

“Uh, I think he is,” Suga lied, reaching for his phone somewhere in the folds of his duvet. “I think he’s doing something tonight.”

This was their plan to avoid breaking _another_ rule, rule number 3, avoid group functions. Lie and say the other one was busy, then immediately text a warning to make up some excuse. It had done its job so far, but Oikawa was clever and stubborn and getting more frustrated by the day.

“Hm.” The growing smile on Oikawa’s face as he tapped something into his phone immediately told Suga that something was wrong. “That’s interesting, especially considering I have a text from Iwaizumi right here says Daichi’s free, but that _you’re_ busy tonight.”

“Shit,” Suga cursed, just as he managed to grasp his phone.

Sure enough, a text from one minute ago.

_From Kind-of-Boyfriend_

_If Oikawa asks, you’re busy tonight_

Suga swore softly and quietly, but with feeling, as he melted into his bedsheets once again.

Oikawa smirked. “We’re leaving at seven, also we have to bring some sort of dessert!”

“Why is that my responsibility?” Suga moaned. “They’re _your_ friends.”

“Oh, honey. Do you really want me in the kitchen?”

Suga baked chocolate chip cookies.

Suga and Oikawa arrived exactly ten minutes late, because, according to Oikawa, “No one expects me to _actually_ be on time, are you kidding?”

Instead, at 7:10 PM, Oikawa knocked on the door to Kuroo’s incredibly upscale apartment. There was a cackle from somewhere inside the unit, then Kuroo opened the door. His grin was not unlike the expression of the cat that tried to escape through the opening, before being nudged back into the apartment by Kuroo’s foot.

“Are we sure that these are edible?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting, accepting the container of cookies that Oikawa thrust in his hands.

Unbothered by the insult, Oikawa breezed past Kuroo into his apartment. “Relax, Suga made them.”

Kuroo laughed again. “Good. Come on in, Suga. I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thanks.”

Kuroo’s apartment was clean, expensively decorated, and definitely _not_ what Suga had expected. It was all minimalist decorum and black and white and red, looking less like the home of a twenty year old and more like a well dressed set design for a television show. There were only a few signs of actual living in the main hallway, a couple scattered cat toys and a mountain of shoes by the door.

“Nice, right?” Kuroo said, smugly, cat in one hand and cookies in the other.

“Definitely.”

“It’s all my boyfriend.” He explained, flippantly, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “He’s a super famous and loaded video game streamer-”

“Tetsu, stop trying to convince everyone I’m your sugar daddy.” Someone appeared at the end of the hallway, padding forward on socked feet, tucking a Nintendo Switch into the pocket of his red, over-sized sweatshirt. He opened his arms, and the cat gleefully jumped from Kuroo to him. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Fine,” Kuroo pouted. “Suga, this is Kenma, who I’m not _only_ dating for his money.”

Kenma narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend, but otherwise just sighed and turned back the way he came, cat still in hand.

“He’s shy,” Kuroo explained. Smirking once again, Kuroo slipped around Suga, following further into the apartment. “Dai! You’re boyfriend’s here! And he brought _cookies!_ ”

From around the corner of the hallway, Daichi came into view. “Thanks, but I figured that was the case when Oikawa walked in and said the same thing ten seconds ago.”

Kuroo paused to gleefully ruffle Daichi’s hair, and then left the two alone in the hallway.

Looking Suga over with a quick critical eye, Daichi asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t until Daichi asked that Suga realized he was a little overwhelmed. New place, new people, faster heart rate. “Just been a while since I’ve hung out in a big group setting.”

Daichi smiled knowingly, and maybe a little sadly. “Me too. Brave it together?”

Grinning back, Suga knocked his shoulder with Daichi’s. “Let’s do it.”

They entered the living room together.

On the surface, Daichi knew what to expect for Kuroo’s game night.

Starting with a few rounds of Jackbox, maybe some Cards Against Humanity. Someone would suggest ordering a pizza, usually Bokuto, and they would argue over toppings and always end with the same order, usually Bokuto’s. Then Oikawa would insist on a drinking game, and night would wind down from there.

But the last game night he’d gone too, he’d gone with _Hayato_.

Game night had always been the same four couples, ever since they started the tradition in college. Oikawa and Iwaizumi, Kenma and Kuroo, Akaashi and Bokuto (even though they weren’t _actually_ dating), and Daichi and Hayato.

He knew he should have expected Suga, with his pale hair and soft sweaters, sitting on the left of him on the loveseat, just as Hayato used to, but the image was still surreal. But then Suga turned his wide brown eyes on Daichi, tilted his head, and offered one of the cookies he had baked, and Hayato was a distant memory.

“Kenma, give me the Switch.”

“The cat or the gaming console?” asked Kenma, who was, in fact, hoarding both.

“The console, I need it for Jackbox.”

Suga choked on his cookie. “Your cat’s name is Switch?”

“His full name is Nintendo Switch II, but yes,” Kuroo said, with mock solemnity as he accepted the device from Kenma.

“What makes him the second?” Suga whispered to Daichi.

“I believe their actual Nintendo Switch is Nintendo Switch I,” Daichi whispered back. “But I’m not entirely sure about that.”

Kuroo whooped before Suga could respond with something other than a strangled laugh. “Gather round, guys and gays, let’s get going!”

“Hell yeah!” Bokuto shouted, launching himself over the back of Kuroo’s couch and landing on the cushion with an impact that made Kenma wince. Akaashi sighed, but followed, sitting cross-legged at Bokuto’s feet. Kuroo and Kenma claimed the other seats on the couch, and in a practiced dramatic, Oikawa sighed, “Iwa, there’s only one seat left, _whatever_ will we _do?_ ” before Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and pulled Oikawa essentially onto his lap on the recliner.

“Wait-” Bokuto shouted, but was interrupted by Akaashi wordlessly holding up a family sized bag of Doritios. Bokuto beamed, wrapping an arm around his friend with one hand and clutching his prize in the other. “Thanks ‘Kaashi!”

“Bokuto seems like he’s in a better mood,” Suga whispered. “Did Akaashi break up with his fake boyfriend?”

“His _what_?”

Suga winced, but didn’t elaborate. “I’ll tell you later.”

When Daichi glanced back to the rest of the room, he noticed Oikawa was staring at them, eyes narrowed. Studying. Analyzing. It made Daichi uneasy. But then Oikawa just shrugged and muttered something that made Iwaizumi snort.

Thankfully, after that initial shock of rewriting _Hayato_ with _Suga,_ it was easy for Daichi to get into the rhythm of game night. It was made easier by the fact Suga slid into their group like a final puzzle piece. After a few rounds of Quiplash, it was abundantly clear that his sense of humor blended easily with the others, laughing at Oikawa and Bokuto’s crude and often lewd jokes, but his own submissions were carefully curated, with the kind of wordplay Daichi would have expected from an author, that, on more than one occasion, left Kuroo cackling.

And he was _funny_. Daichi knew this, logically, as Suga had made him laugh many times before, but tonight it was abundantly clear just how funny he was, especially considering the fact he won his fair share of rounds, probably more than Daichi himself.

As they paused to switch from Jackbox to card games, Bokuto ordering a couple of pizzas from an app on his phone, Suga excused himself to use the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, Kuroo paused his shuffling of the cards, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Oikawa, I’m incredibly pissed off that this is the first time we’re meeting your roommate because holy shit, I love him already.”

“Hey,” Oikawa raised his hands defensively. “I _tried._ After high school, he started insisting that he didn’t like hanging out in bigger groups.”

“What changed, then?” Akaashi asked, but Daichi noticed how his eyes briefly flickered to Daichi.

Oikawa merely shrugged, gesturing in Daichi’s general vicinity, which apparently satisfied everyone as an answer.

“Well,” Kuroo flicked a black card at Daichi, “don’t break up with him, lover boy. I like him.”

“Me too,” Daichi said, first, as a joke, but then he realized just how truly he meant it.

When Suga came back from the bathroom, he accidentally sat just a little bit closer to Daichi. Daichi didn’t protest.

Kuroo called their Cards Against Humanity game once Bokuto’s pizzas arrived. Suga clutched his coveted white cards, and gleefully noted that he had three more than Daichi’s meager two.

“I admit it,” Daichi sighed, passing his cards to Kuroo. “You are superior, Suga.”

“Hell yeah, I am.”

“Um,” Oikawa interrupted, flaunting his winning seven cards like a fan. “I think you mean _I’m_ superior.” 

Post-game, the group naturally split, eating and talking and proving just how comfortable they all were with each other. Akaashi and Kenma were talking quietly about Animal Crossing, and Daichi got roped into Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and Kuroo’s boisterous debate over pizza toppings, so Suga took the moment to collect himself.

His heart was hammering in his chest and the room was suddenly too warm, so he tapped the sliding glass door by the dining table to get Kenma’s attention. Kenma glanced up from the Switch (the cat, not the console) and nodded, so Suga let himself out into the cool air.

It was nice and grounding to be outside, cool concrete on his bare feet, listening to the sounds of the night. Cold temperatures and white noise always worked better at calming impending panic attacks than anything else he’d tried, so he embraced it, laying his warm face on the stone barrier of the patio. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see much from Kuroo’s balcony, as it faced the complex’s pool that was empty and closed at this point in the night, but he focused on his breathing and the prickly feeling of chill on his skin and his heart rate slowly subsided.

_Was he lonely?_

He didn’t think so. How could he be lonely with that boisterous lot? With Oikawa’s eyebrow wiggles and Akaashi’s careful sighs and Kuroo’s horrendous cackle and Daichi’s side pressed against his on the loveseat?

They were loud and chaotic and overwhelming, and Suga already felt tired and the night was barely halfway over, but he was happy. Maybe his heart was beating quickly and his face was red because he was embarrassed and anxious and overwhelmed but also because he was _happy._

When was the last time he had been this happy?

Behind him, the door slid open.

He had been expecting Daichi, or even Oikawa, so he did a double take when he turned and saw a dark bed head on a tall frame.

Smirking as he made his way to the balcony wall, Kuroo leaned on the concrete next to Suga. “Surprised to see me out here?”

“A little,” Suga admitted. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if Daichi ever told you about Hayato.”

_Hayato._

The name sounded familiar, and it only took a moment to remember _why_ the name was familiar and subsequently why the sound of it made his eye twitch. “That’s his ex-boyfriend, right?”

“Bingo.” Kuroo blew out, his breath white in the chilled night air. “His cheating bastard ex. God, I hate that man. If I ever saw him again…” He trailed off, chuckling humorlessly and taking a sip from his beer. “I’ve known Daichi for a long time. Since high school. And I could tell that Hayato had broken something in him, even though he’s good at hiding it. He distracts himself with work, tells himself he’s fine, and moves on.”

The familiarity of Kuroo’s words left Suga with a sinking feeling in his gut, but he swallowed and kept listening.

“I knew he wasn’t over Hayato yet, and I was pissed off at Oikawa for setting the two of you up. I thought it wasn’t fair to him, but mostly I didn’t think it was fair to _you._ ”

This turn in the conversation had Suga panicking a little. While Daichi had warned Suga that Kuroo might confront him about Daichi’s lingering affection for his cheating ex, Suga hadn’t prepared how to actually _respond_ to that conversation. He couldn’t exactly explain that their relationship was fake in the first place, so it didn’t matter that Daichi wouldn’t love him the way he still loved Hayato, even though the thought left a bitter taste in the back of Suga’s throat.

“But,” Kuroo continued. “I don’t think that conversation is necessary anymore.”

Suga paused, taking a moment to process Kuroo’s statement. “Why?”

“I don’t know how you did it, Suga, but that was the happiest I’ve seen Daichi in months.”

“Oh,” Suga said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. “Thank you, I guess.”

Of course he was glad that his presence seemed to make Daichi happier, but the guilt and regret and doubt hit him all at once. How much of that was acting? How much of Daichi’s joy was a deception?

The bad taste in his throat grew. It sprouted something awful and suddenly any lingering tomato or mozzarella or pepperoni was overwhelmed by the noxious urge to vomit.

Did Daichi like spending time with Suga at all? Had he been faking it this whole time as part of their joint illusion? Had Suga been so oblivious and naive to fall for a trap of his own design and once again, he would be alone? Alone, except for Oikawa and Iwaizumi and his mother who were left to pick up the pieces and trust they put him back together in the right way again and probably resent him for being so weak-

“Suga?” Kuroo asked, and Suga realized he had swooned, leaning against the cool concrete barrier, one of Kuroo’s hands holding Suga’s shoulder upright. If Kuroo hadn’t been there, Suga might have toppled off the side of the balcony. “Are you alright?”

“Dehydrated, I think,” Suga lied. “I’m okay, now. Thanks.”

Kuroo didn’t look convinced, but he dropped his hand. “Do you want me to get you some water? You know, actually, don’t answer that, I’m getting you some water.”

Without giving Suga time to either protest or thank him, Kuroo disappeared back into the apartment.

Suga took a shaky breath.

It was too close of a call. While he had expected _some_ kind of negative backlash from the night, having a panic attack in front of someone he’d only just recently met definitely wasn’t ideal. So he focused on his breathing, on staying calm, on feeling the cool ground pressing the soles of his feet.

He was okay.

He was sad, and he was anxious, and he was lonely, but he was okay.

He was okay.

_Right?_

The door slid open behind him, once again, but it wasn’t Kuroo that stepped out, rather a concerned Daichi, holding a plastic cup, dark brows knitted with worry.

“Kuroo told me to bring you some water, are you alright?”

Suga didn’t answer. He wasn’t even sure if he _was_ okay, and he was tired of lying about how he felt. Instead, he asked, “Daichi, are you ever lonely?”

For a long time, Daichi didn’t respond. He just closed the door behind him, set the cup on the ledge, and gave a deep sigh. “You know, until recently, I would’ve told you all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Daichi took another deep breath, like he was holding back his own tidal wave of emotions beneath that calm veneer, eyes fixated on the few visible scattering of stars in the sky. “You know how I said that I hadn’t hung out in a large group in a while? Well, when Hayato and I broke up… I kind of... isolated myself. Stopped hanging out with friends, barely left my apartment for anything that wasn’t work, some days I would barely be able to say hi to my own roommate. I was still in that slump when we met.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know,” Daichi confessed. “I know I’m not lonely at this moment, and that’s what’s really important, right?”

“I guess.”

Daichi opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated and closed it again. Finally, he asked, “Is this about the conversation with your mom? When we visited?”

“How did you…?”

The smile on Daichi’s face wasn’t happy, just knowing. “I figured she said something to you. You were out of sorts for the whole night after you went out back to talk to her.”

“Yeah,” Suga said, but the words felt like sandpaper in his throat. “She said some things that made me reconsider…” He spread his arms, trying to think of the right word. “Isolation?”

“Loneliness?”

“Yeah. That. She said that… she thinks I’m lying to myself. And I’m not as happy being independent as I might think.”

Daichi sucked in a quick breath, still eyeing the stars. “That’s… poignant.”

“Yeah,” Suga agreed. “And the worst part is that I think she’s _right._ I… I don’t know. I don’t know my own emotions… I don’t know anything anymore.”

Daichi gave him a look that Suga thought might verge on the side of _scolding_ . “That’s not true. Yes, your mother may have accidentally jump started a personal crisis, but you don’t know _nothing._ I would argue to say you know at the very least... three things.”

A little helpless laugh escaped Suga’s lips, and he embraced the first moment of levity from the conversation like a well worn blanket. “Oh yeah? And what are those three things?”

“Number one, you know your name is Koushi Sugawara.”

Suga laughed again. It felt _good_ to laugh. “That one is true.”

“Number two, you know you are a very talented and successful writer.”

“Uh, I’m not so sure--”

“Number three,” Daichi interrupted, “you have an apartment full of people that thoroughly enjoy your presence, and I would even argue to say, love you, back through that sliding glass door. We’re your friends, and we’re here for you. Now, are you lonely right now?”

Suga held his face in his hands, hoping his cold fingers might cool down his flaming face, but also hoping the action might distract from how _wet_ his eyes suddenly had gotten.

_Am I lonely?_

“No,” he answered, quietly. “I’m not lonely.”

“Good. I think Oikawa wants to play an alcoholic version of Truth or Dare in a few minutes, and I honestly don’t think I can handle that on my own, so either we brave that thing together or one of us is faking an illness so we can escape with our lives and dignity.”

“I’m ready to go back inside,” Suga laughed. “No need for a fake illness.”

“Damn,” Daichi muttered, but he was grinning as he held out one of his hands for Suga to hold.

Just like earlier in the night, Suga took Daichi’s hand, and they went into the apartment together.

While Suga had initially thought Daichi had been joking when he said that Oikawa wanted to play a game meant for teenage girls at a sleepover with the added joys of getting wasted, but unfortunately he was 100% serious. In fact, most of the group was preparing for said game, so Daichi almost immediately got swept away from Suga’s side by Kuroo to “mix him something fun.” Suga lingered in the kitchen threshold, watching with an amused eye as Daichi tried to explain that he couldn’t make anything more complicated than a rum and coke with Kuroo’s lack of juices and syrups and mixers.

“Would you like a drink, Suga?” Akaashi asked. He and Bokuto were at the kitchen counter, Bokuto hefting a generous bottle of cheap vodka.

“That’s alright, I don’t really drink alcohol, but thank you.”

“Come on, Suga!” Bokuto pouted, holding out the bottle like a kid in one of those ads they show teenagers. _Just say no to drugs and alcohol!_ “One shot?”

Ever the voice of reason, Akaashi sighed, “Bokuto, if he doesn’t want to drink, he doesn’t have to drink.”

“But it’s fun!”

Suga smiled apologetically, prepared to refuse again, but before he could, an angry voice from behind him snapped, “No. He said no, Bokuto.”

Oikawa’s tone was so sharp that it looked like Bokuto almost flinched from the impact of the constants alone. He wilted under Oikawa’s glare, frowning at the floor tiles of the kitchen. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Bokuto,” Suga interrupted, laying a hand on Oikawa’s arm. He could feel the tense muscles, even with his light touch. “Tooru, it’s alright. This isn’t high school.”

Oikawa took a deep breath in and out, and Suga was relieved to see a little bit of the fury subside. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Bo. I lashed out. I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

“Here,” Daichi cut in, appearing at Suga’s other shoulder. “Just soda.”

“Thanks,” Suga grasped the drink like a lifeline, embracing the cool cup against his warm skin. Logically, he knew Bokuto wouldn’t have actually forced him to drink, and Oikawa, deep down, knew that too, but part of him was still a little shaken as Daichi led him back to the living room. _As if tonight hadn’t been emotionally draining enough._ Suga was distantly aware of Iwaizumi saying something calming to Oikawa and Kenma coming out of the bathroom and muttering, “Feels like a funeral in here.”

Thankfully though, it didn’t take much for Bokuto’s mood to pick up again (a few well placed compliments from Akaashi and a fresh bag of Doritos to be specific), and the knife that was Oikawa had softer edges after a screwdriver, so the group settled on the floor of the living room to play Oikawa’s drinking game of Truth or Dare to end the night.

Suga had been worried that with him being the new one to the group, there would be an uncomfortable spotlight on him, but it took four rounds, two shots, and one terribly executed prank call for someone to target him.

“Koushi,” Oikawa grinned. “Truth or dare?”

Suga didn’t trust that expression, so he swiftly chose the safer option.

“Truth.”

Fluttering his lashes innocently, Oikawa smiled, leaning forward until his hands were laced under his chin. “Who topped?”

The sound that came out of Daichi’s mouth was reminiscent of a car backfiring as he choked on air, and Suga was sure his face was redder than Kuroo’s rug.

“I can drink, right?” Suga said, already taking a long swig of his blissfully non-alcoholic coke, which felt like heaven on his suddenly very dry mouth.

“Boo,” Oikawa complained, but otherwise didn’t protest him not answering the question or actually taking a drink of something alcoholic. “It’s your turn.”

Suga wasn’t sure he knew any of the other people in the room enough yet to target any of them, so he turned to the man next to him.

“Daichi?”

“Truth.”

“Boring!” Kuroo heckled, making Oikawa snicker.

Daichi sent a _look_ at his friend, who whistled innocently and looked away. “Fine, dare.”

“Okay,” Suga hummed, looking around the room, trying to think of the right dare. Something that was _just_ the right amount of embarrassing... Oikawa cleared his throat, meeting Suga’s gaze and subtly pulling at his collar. _Ah._ “Alright, lose the shirt.”

Kuroo and Oikawa cackled, and even Iwaizumi smirked, as Daichi begrudgingly shed his dark t-shirt.

“I hate you,” he told Suga, over the sound of Bokuto and Kuroo wolf-whistling encouragingly.

"Daichi!" Oikawa gasped. "Who knew you were hiding _that_ under those clothes!"

 _That,_ as so eloquently referred to by Oikawa, was in fact Daichi's incredibly tan and _toned_ chest.

"You knew," Daichi said, dryly. "Remember last week when Iwaizumi didn't care to tell me that you were coming over and I was making breakfast shirtless?"

Distantly, Suga was aware of the words _breakfast_ and _shirtless_ , before everything else decidedly went blank.

"Hm, strange, I don't remember that."

"Sure you don't. Kuroo, truth or dare?"

Suga wasn't sure if the flush on his cheeks was leftover from Oikawa's intrusive question during his round, or if it was from being in the vicinity of a _shirtless Daichi._ Even if they weren’t actually dating, Suga still had eyes and was very, _very,_ gay, so the sight of Daichi’s muscles sent his brain into overdrive.

 _You did this to yourself_ , Suga thought. _Its fine, get over it, don't think about his bare chest-_

"Akaashi! Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Do you want to kiss Bokuto?"

“Dare."

"I dare you to kiss Bokuto."

Akaashi took a long swig of his drink.

The game continued on. Two more pieces of clothing were shed (Bokuto's shirt and Kenma's sock, thanks to vague wording on Kuroo's part) and there were three more times where they almost cornered either Bokuto or Akaashi into finally confessing, before one of them would chicken out and take a shot. The group also got progressively more drunk, save for Suga, and, surprisingly, Daichi, who accepted his fate with confidence and dignity, even after being dared to spend a round in a wall-sit.

"Suga." Kuroo grinned from where he was draped over Kenma’s lap. "Truth or dare?"

Suga liked to keep his clothes on, so he chose truth.

"Why don't you drink?"

Oikawa shot Suga a tense glance, easily interpreted as, _you don’t have to answer,_ but not answering would just make people _more_ curious. Suga briefly mulled over how to answer, finally settling on, "Alcohol and I don't get along. Low tolerance, you know?"

It was vague, and it wasn't the whole truth, but Kuroo accepted that as a sufficient answer and gestured for the game to continue. After a few more rounds, Kenma said that he was going to bed before his social meter was completely depleted so he didn't "kill Tetsurou in his sleep", and everyone took that as their cue to leave.

Personally, Suga was sorely disappointed to see Daichi’s abs disappear beneath his t-shirt once again.

They left in pairs, Oikawa and Iwaizumi first (after not so subtly suggesting that Daichi spend the night at Suga and Oikawa's apartment), then Akaashi and Bokuto (the latter yelling a goodbye and the former politely reminding him that it was one in the morning), until finally, after helping pick up some abandoned cups, Suga and Daichi were walking out into the cool night air.

"Cookie?" Suga offered, holding up the last remaining confection. 

"Want to share it?"

They split the cookie, relishing in the sweet chocolate and the warmth from the other’s presence.

"Tonight wasn't too bad," Daichi said, in between bites. "I expected it to be worse."

“Yeah…” Suga chewed thoughtfully on his half of the cookie. “How is it possible that we’ve broken three of the rules that _we_ made up?”

Daichi laughed, and the sound alone seemed to raise the temperature of the street by three degrees. “I honestly don’t know, but I'm pretty sure that’s more rules than I broke the entire time I was in high school.”

Suga tried to hold in a snort, but it didn’t work, because Daichi shot him a look. “What? Don’t tell me you were some rebel kid in high school!”

“No, but I definitely broke more than _three_ rules,” Suga laughed. “Besides, who knows? I might have some dark and twisted past that you don’t even know about.”

“Oh really? Care to share?”

Humming, Suga pretended to think. “Nah, I’m done with emotions for the next 24 hours. Try again later.”

“Alright, fine. Well, Mr. Dark-and-Twisted-Past, would you be so kind as to let a goody-two-shoes stay the night on your couch tonight so he doesn't walk in on something that will scar him for life regarding our two lovely roommates?”

“I suppose,” Suga sighed. “Although, if I were to say that rent may be paid in breakfast…?”

“I would say I’m surprised you’re not asking for a _shirtless_ breakfast.”

“Don’t tempt me, Sawamura.”

Daichi let out a laugh and Suga was convinced that the grin on his face would never fade, that it would be stuck like that forever, until the smile dropped into something more confused.

“Wait, what did you mean earlier about Akaashi’s fake boyfriend?!”

Suga laughed, gleefully. “Oh man, you are _not_ gonna believe this!”

So they stumbled home, their laughter mingling in the street-lamp lit street, happy and content, and riding the high of comradely and chocolate chip cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is oikawa-tuwu, so follow me there! Thanks for reading!


	5. The One Where They Break Rule Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They break rule four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pretends like this chapter didn't take two months*
> 
> *pretends harder*
> 
> Anyways, yall can split the blame on this chapter taking so long as my dumb ADHD brain deciding that jonmartin is my new hyperfixation, and also my writer’s block bluescreen that I had while writing most of this chapter. I hope this chapter makes you scream at least twice, because I sure did while writing it. Warning: this chapter is kind of heavy. It deals with some past trauma/bullying stuff right at the end (and there's at least one scene next chapter that will be a similar tone). Just... be prepared for some angst.
> 
> feelings are fatal, mxmtoon  
> Francis Forever, Mitski

4\. No kissing.

Suga woke up to the smell of breakfast.

For a moment, he forgot where and _when_ he was, and he expected to open his eyes to see his childhood bedroom. The smell, of course, wafting upstairs from his father making breakfast on Saturday mornings like he always did.

But standing in the kitchen, casually flipping pancakes, wasn’t his father.

It was Daichi.

Daichi, leaning against the counter of his and Oikawa’s dingy kitchen, hair still damp and unstyled from a shower, humming along to a song quietly playing from his phone, as he waited for a pancake to cook.

It felt wrong, just standing in the hallway and watching, like this was an intimate moment between Daichi and the stove and the little blue apron tied over yesterday's clothes. A scene that Suga wasn't allowed to see.

Guilt and joy and _longing_ battled for control over his heart.

And then Daichi did something that couldn’t quite be called a dance, but did involve a complicated shake of his limbs, and the _joy_ won.

Suga cleared his throat, unable to hide the little amused giggle from the back of his throat.

Startled, Daichi jumped, and the pancake shifted precariously, nearly sliding onto the floor instead of the plate, if not for his spatula that caught it just in time.

“Nice save,” Suga snickered, but Daichi just scowled.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Suga laughed, protesting, weakly, “I was _not_ sneaking! You seemed pretty preoccupied by yourself and your _dad music.”_

“Shut up,” Daichi said, as if Suga couldn’t see the red tips of his ears as he started onto the next pancake. He turned back to point the measuring cup at Suga, batter almost dripping onto the floor. “Or no breakfast for you.”

Laughing still, Suga slid into a seat at the dining room table, propping his head on his hand to watch Daichi fidget with the ever-so finicky stove controls. “Relax, I was just teasing. It was cute.”

Daichi’s hand froze over the gas dial, and suddenly Suga was filled to the brim with _regret._

They’d teased before, maybe even said some things that were on the line of flirting… but this... _This_ was blatant words of affection that had slipped out before Suga had even recognized the words were _true._

Through the haze of confusion and guilt, deep down in his chest, Suga knew that he’d crossed a line, and he expected an awkward laugh and a careful brushing off of the conversation, and a polite excuse to leave. _I have stuff to do today, thanks for the couch, text you later._

But then Daichi smiled.

It was just a tiny little careless quirk in the corner of his mouth, but the relief that the unintentional gesture filled Suga’s veins with was more energizing than a triple shot of espresso.

“Thanks for letting me crash here,” Daichi said, turning back to the stove. “I think I would have rather slept on the street than stayed home when Oikawa was spending the night.”

“Of course,” Suga said. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Daichi smiled again then, and Suga allowed himself an indulgent moment where he told himself that _this_ smile was a little less genuine than it had been a few minutes ago. Before he could dwell on the thought, though, Daichi flipped the final pancake, so Suga set about getting plates and silverware and syrup from the cupboards.

It was all so wholesomely domestic, puttering around the kitchen, squeezing beside Daichi to reach the forks and pretending like the little brush of their arms or the smell of Suga’s shampoo in Daichi’s hair did nothing to his pulse.

Soon, their breakfast (the pancakes, plus bacon and fruit that Daichi had managed to scrounge from the depths of their kitchen) was spread on the table, each of them settled on either side of the table.

He took a bite of a pancake, and Daichi smiled at him, raising an eyebrow.

He asked, “Good?”

“Good,” Suga agreed, but the confession felt deeper than being just about pancakes.

His heart hurt.

He was so incredibly and entirely _screwed_.

Suga was in the middle of doing the dishes when his phone began to buzz. Daichi had left sometime ago, apologizing for eating and running, but one of his employees called out sick at the last minute and he needed to pick up their shift. Suga was left dazed and confused in his wake, and it took him a solid hour to find the motivation to tackle the mountain of dishes that breakfast had created.

His phone buzzed again. Then three times. Then five or six times in quick succession.

With a sigh, he wiped his hands with a towel and blinked warily at the stream of notifications.

_From Best Friend_

_I got you guys tickets to our game next Friday. Ur welcome_

_From (xxx) xxx-1512_

_What if I’m busy_

_From Best Friend_

_Lol, that’s funny Kuroo_

_From (xxx) xxx-2865_

_What if I don’t want to go_

_From Best Friend_

_L O L_

_From (xxx) xxx-4444_

_Bro come watch me play!!_

_From (xxx) xxx-1512_

_Only for you, bro <3 _

_From Kind of Boyfriend_

_That’s a really homoerotically charged interaction for two guys in love with two other men._

_From Kind of Boyfriend_

_Also hi Koushi_

_From Best Friend_

_I added you to the group chat since you’re officially part of the group now :) ur welcome_

_From (xxx) xxx-1512_

_Daichi, you’re just jealous that you’re straight passing xx_

_From (xxx) xxx-5454_

_I don’t think you know the definition of straight passing, Kuroo_

_From Best Friend_

_Akaashi’s right, have you SEEN his thighs? No straight man is blessed with those quads_

_From Kind of Boyfriend_

_Thanks, I think_

_From Arm Wrestling Champ_

_Do I need to be jealous…?_

_From Best Friend_

_Always ;)_

_From Best Friend_

_NO BABE I’M KIDDING SEN D HEL_

No one did, in fact, send help. Unless _help_ meant spamming the groupchat with memes and laughing emojis and reaction images, then yes, Bokuto and Kuroo sent plenty of help.

At least, Suga assumed that was who the numbers belonged to. He didn’t know anyone else that would gladly refer to each other as “bro” on a regular basis.

After a few minutes, Oikawa came back to give the rest of the details of the match, as if he hadn’t been talking about this game since the season schedule was announced. Oikawa’s volleyball team (featuring Bokuto as a wing spiker and Iwaizumi on the sidelines as one of their trainers) was playing this weekend and Oikawa was insistent that everyone needed to come and watch him “destroy that Ushiwaka once and for all”. Smiley face.

Suga accepted this without much complaint. He’d been to quite a few of Oikawa’s games, although his friend only made it to the team’s starting line-up this season. The crowds were a hassle, but worth it to see his best friend finally play on a court worthy of his talent.

The part that got his heart racing was when Daichi texted him later.

_From Kind of Boyfriend_

_I know a great restaurant by the stadium. Want to get dinner beforehand?_

It took Suga three times to type out a coherent answer, as most of his brain was screaming _DATE DATE DATE._

_To Kind of Boyfriend_

_Sure :)_

Somehow, Suga managed to keep it together until Friday.

His manuscript suffered, unfortunately, as anytime he was left alone with just his thoughts, all he could think about was _DATE DATE DATE_ and also _I’m overreacting, it's not a date, we’re friends just hanging out_ and also _fuck I think I actually like Daichi Sawamura._

How was it possible to focus on a confession scene when he could, instead, overanalyze every single interaction he'd ever had with the other man, searching for the barest scraps of flirting or teasing or affection that might allude to Daichi's own feelings?

And then Daichi was on his doorstep at 5 PM sharp, wearing tight jeans and an easy smile.

And then Daichi complimented his outfit.

It was just a casual, passing comment, as they entered the restaurant, but it just about had him vibrating with zeal as Daichi talked to the hostess. They were led to a table, and all Suga could think about was the way that Daichi's hand lingered on his when he passed over a menu, or the little way his smile did that pleased grin when Suga laughed at one of his jokes.

There was something there.

There _had_ to be something there.

"So," Suga started, latching onto the first wave of confidence with all of his might. "I… was thinking…"

"About what?" Daichi hummed, and he set down his menu, looking at Suga with an intrigued tilted brow. He was smiling. He was… so _handsome._ So pretty.

Too pretty.

Too pretty to be in Suga's league.

The doubts rolled in.

His mouth dried as the wave crashed and receded and the only thing left was his _cowardice._

He was a coward and a fake and he was making a mountain out of a molehill and he couldn’t screw up whatever good thing they had going for them already-

“Actually," he said, instead. "I have to use the bathroom.”

Daichi was, to say the least, confused as hell. By this point, he’d gotten used to Suga’s nerves, especially around large groups of people, but Suga had looked even more anxious than usual, all night, fiddling with his sleeves and his menu and his scarf and anything he could get his hands on, and then he'd scampered away as soon as it seemed like he was about to say something important.

If it was important, Suga would tell him. Daichi had to believe that. Had to _trust_ that.

“Daichi?”

For a second, he was startled by how quickly Suga had gone to the bathroom and back, and he had a joke about washing your hands more thoroughly on the tip of his tongue. But when he looked up and his brain blue-screened, the words died somewhere around his throat.

"Hayato," he breathed, even as the rest of his body grew numb.

With a similar weak breathlessness, Hayato said, "Hi."

It took Daichi a solid thirty seconds to remember that other words existed, and he stumbled out, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm, uh..." Hayato picked at the cuffs of his sleeves, a nervous habit that Daichi had seen many a time before. "I'm on a date, actually."

A date.

_His date_ , a pretty blonde girl, hair in a sleek bun, sitting at a table, eyes trained on her phone, in the vague direction that Hayato gestured to.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Hayato said. "It's not really going well. For… obvious reasons. She's a new partner at my dad's firm, and, well… you know."

Daichi knew.

"Anyways," Hayato continued. "Are you… here alone?"

“Actually,” a voice interrupted. “He’s not.”

Daichi blinked, and there Suga was.

It was a strange thing, seeing Suga and Hayato in the same place. He was certain this wasn’t the first time they'd met. He vaguely remembered their faces together in Daichi’s line of sight, Kuroo shouting his careful choice of obscenities... or maybe that had been a dream. Yes, that first time _had_ to be a dream, because Suga had no recognition in his eyes as he slid into the open seat across the table.

“I’m Sugawara. Daichi’s boyfriend. And you are?”

Hayato’s gaze flicked between Suga and Daichi, once, twice, three times. Finally, he said, “Just an old friend. The name’s Hayato.”

Suga’s eyes widened, just a fraction, and he said, “ _Oh_.”

“It was good to see you, Daichi. I should get back, but… call me if you want to talk. I have some things I want to say.”

“Okay,” Daichi heard himself say, still numb in his lips.

Hayato dipped his head, either a nod or a resignation, and walked back to his date. Daichi watched him leave, the defeated slump of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw.

“He’s…” Suga started, but trailed off before Daichi could find out what Hayato was.

“Yeah,” Daichi agreed. “He looks…”

“Good?” Suga suggested.

_Sad._ That was the word. He looked… sad.

Daichi hadn’t considered that their breakup might have also affected Hayato. The thought briefly crossed his mind that he should feel sad, too. Sad that Hayato was sad, at the very least.

He watched Hayato leave, trying to pick through the shambled mess of emotions in his chest. No, that wasn’t the right metaphor. It felt more like trying a cocktail for the first time. It took a very careful and trained palette to remake a cocktail entirely on taste, and knowing exactly what alcohol and how much or what mixers or even the method of mixing the drink in the first place, and it had taken years for Daichi to learn even the basics. Let’s just say, Daichi was better at discerning between vodka and tequila than at discerning between nostalgic or melancholy _._

Besides, he had more pressing priorities. He tried to memorize the feeling, the metallic taste in the back of his throat, and hoped that would be enough to thoroughly analyze later.

“Anyways,” Daichi said, eyes flitting back to Suga. “What were you going to say?”

Whatever confidence Suga had from standing up to Hayato had deflated, and he was back to fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater.

“Oh… uh, nevermind. I guess I forgot.”

While Daichi wasn’t entirely convinced, he let it slide, as their waiter approached to take their order.

The rest of dinner passed in an uncomfortable silence that he’d never experienced with Suga before.

Oikawa’s team won.

Celebratory drinks after the game were hosted at Daichi’s bar. Daichi had the day off, leaving the care of the bar to his employee. Daichi had once described Ennoshita to Suga as a hardworking and reliable kid, even if he had a couple… _rowdy_ friends. Clearly, that reliability was exemplified tonight, as he had managed to find time in the busy day to decorate the bar with balloons and streamers and various congratulatory ornaments.

"It was Iwaizumi's idea," Daichi confessed, when Oikawa’s head snapped over to him, grinning madly. "And Ennoshita actually set everything up."

For his part, Ennoshita gave a curt nod, and hid a purple _Condolences_ balloon under the bar counter.

Still, Oikawa looked teary-eyed as he took in the display--the Seijou blue balloons and the banner, in big block letters, spelling out _Congratulations on Finally Destroying Ushiwaka_! "You guys..."

Suga had to admit, it was a sweet sight. The crowning achievement of his best friend’s career, celebrating, surrounded by loved ones. The triumphant energy alone sent Suga’s nerves jittering, and, normally, this would be great inspiration for writing. He tried his best to smile and laugh when it was appropriate and not give any indication to Oikawa that he might not be having a good time.

This was _his_ moment. Suga could pretend that he wasn’t miserable for a couple hours for the sake of his best friend.

But he couldn’t seem to bring himself to enjoy the revelry.

Surprisingly, the first person to notice Suga's distance from the celebration was not Oikawa, or Iwaizumi, or even the subject of his distraction himself. It was _Akaashi_.

At some point, Kuroo had coerced Oikawa to explain exactly what caused his rivalry with the stoic left hitter, and now he was constructing an overly dramatized narrative about opposing school and nationals and "insults to my dear Iwa-chan". Even if half the tale Oikawa was spinning was true, Suga had, unfortunately, been there to hear all of this first hand at three in the morning when Oikawa would call him because he couldn't sleep. He didn't care to hear it again, especially as Oikawa's story came to a head for their senior year of high school. Not necessarily a time that Suga liked to remember.

It was easy to slip out their circle of friends, and he selected a barstool close enough to the crowd that made it look like he was still paying attention, even though he was focusing more on the prickly cold of his soda glass on his fingertips than on Oikawa’s scandalized voice.

Daichi didn’t look to see where Suga had gone.

But Akaashi had.

Only a moment later, Akaashi slid into the seat next to Suga.

“Did something happen between you and Daichi?”

Unintentionally, Suga’s grip tightened on his glass, but he tried to school his expression into something neutral and vaguely confused. “What makes you say that?”

Akaashi glanced at Suga's hands. It was brief and efficient and a clear signal that _he wasn’t fooling anyone._ He repeated, a little softer, “What happened?”

With a resigned sigh, Suga let go of his glass. The condensation stayed on his fingers, though, but even when he wiped the water on his pants, his hands could feel the lingering damp cool.

Essentially, Suga was walking through a minefield of traps, where one slip up could reveal the facade that he and Daichi had spent weeks constructing. But also…

Maybe advice from Akaashi was really what he needed.

With a careful glance to make sure their friends were still listening to Oikawa (they were), Suga said, “I think Daichi’s still in love with Hayato.”

Nothing changed in Akaashi’s expression, save for the barest of frowns at the corner of his mouth. His reaction wasn’t encouraging.

“I don’t think it's as black and white as that,” Akaashi said, eventually. “There’s not a clean line when it comes to break-ups.”

“Well, you’re either in love with someone or you’re not,” Suga snapped. “And if he’s still in love with Hayato… I don’t know.”

Akaashi glanced at their friends again. Suga saw him catch Bokuto’s gaze, and Bokuto's responding grin was almost blinding.

Eyes still on Bokuto, Akaashi mused, “You just have to talk with him. Be straightforward about your worries. Daichi is an honest guy, he’ll tell you the truth when it matters.”

The irony of it almost had Suga laughing.

_Daichi is an honest guy._

Apparently, his amusement wasn’t well hidden, because Akaashi raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Suga said. “I just think it’s a little ironic that you, of all people, are lecturing me about communication.”

Akaashi knit his eyebrows, staring into his glass. He muttered, quietly, almost more to himself than to Suga, “I suppose that is a little funny.”

With that, Akaashi seemed to come to an internal decision. He nodded to Suga, downed his entire glass of whiskey, and marched in the direction of their friends. With the sort of confidence that had even Oikawa trailing off in his monologue to watch, Akaashi swiftly grabbed the collar of Bokuto’s shirt, yanked him down to his height, and kissed him.

Six jaws dropped, and even Ennoshita was so startled that he fumbled with a glass, barely catching it before it could fall to the ground.

“Holy shit,” Kuroo whispered, gripping Kenma’s shoulder like he thought he was dreaming and needed to touch someone else to prove he was awake. As a wide grin grew across his face, he repeated, “Holy _shit!_ ”

“It’s about time,” Daichi scoffed, but he was grinning, too.

After what felt like an eternity of astonishment, staring at Akaashi _kissing Bokuto_ with a ferocity and passion that Suga had never seen from the barista, Akaashi pulled away. He stepped back, ducking his head down like he hadn’t just ended five years of pining by kissing his best friend, but Bokuto’s hand gripped the hem of Akaashi’s sleeve.

He asked, eyes wide, “Does this mean we’re dating now?”

Whatever little bit of Akaashi that was pretending to be cool and stoic melted, and his face visibly flushed in the dim light. “If that’s what you want, Bokuto.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

“If that’s what you want, Bokuto,” Akaashi repeated, and Bokuto took him up on the offer, embracing Akaashi in a tight hug so loving and yearning and joyful that looking at it made Suga’s heart _ache._

“Point one to Akaashi,” Suga mused, quietly, to himself, as he watched his friends slowly go from startled to elated to disgusted, heckling the new couple to _get a room already!_

Maybe it was time for Suga to be more honest, too.

Daichi helped Ennoshita lock up.

Before the group could disperse, stumbling home or, if you were Kuroo, drunkenly trying to call an Uber as your much more sober boyfriend watches and laughs, Daichi put a careful hand on Suga’s shoulder.

“Can I walk you home?”

Suga nodded, but Daichi noticed a distance in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders as he sat at a table, staring at his notebook like he could telepathically imprint all of his feelings onto the blank piece of paper if he glared hard enough.

Soon, the bar itself was cleaned and prepared for the next day’s shift, and Ennoshita hurried Daichi out before he could offer to help with locking up, too.

“We’re good to go,” Daichi said, handing Suga his jacket. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Suga confirmed, flipping his notebook closed.

Daichi couldn’t help but notice that the page was still blank.

Their walk was quieter than it normally was. It wasn’t that there were never silences between the two of them before, but those had been comfortable silences, where just the mere warmth of someone beside you was enough. It wasn’t even like it was all that quiet, either. The city never slept, and as all the local bars started to close, the streets were filled with chattering drunks and honking cars. Still, though, this quiet between them felt more like the silence in a horror movie just before a jumpscare. Something was coming, and Daichi was starting to itch with the terrible anticipation of it.

Daichi thought desperately for something to say.

“What did you say to Akaashi?” Was what Daichi settled on, recalling the morose conversation that he’d briefly witnessed between the two men before Akaashi and Bokuto’s kiss. “He looked pretty fired up.”

“I can’t take credit for that,” Suga said, his eyes focusing more on the people passing around them than on Daichi. “Akaashi just decided that it was time to be honest, with both himself and Bokuto.”

There was a hidden message there, somewhere in Suga’s words, but Daichi wasn’t sure if the message was for him or for _Suga_.

The conversation fizzled.

Daichi was so tired.

In fact, Daichi was so tired, he almost missed it when Suga stopped walking. One moment, Suga was next to him, and the next, he was nearly ten feet back, almost fading into the background of other pedestrians that pushed their way past him.

He looked horrified.

That was the only way to describe his expression. Just… _horrified._

Daichi started to panic.

In only a few strides, he was back at Suga’s side.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, and Suga’s hand immediately reached out, grasping at Daichi’s coat, on anything he could get a grip on. He held on, tight, to Daichi’s sleeve, and didn’t say anything, for a long time, just breathing in a tempo that still betrayed how shaky the breaths were.

Daichi started to wonder if Suga was having a panic attack, when Suga took a deep breath and grasped at Daichi’s hand, lacing them together and squeezing.

“We have to go,” Suga said. “Keep walking, and if someone calls my name, don’t stop.”

Confusion started to overcome the fear, but Daichi obeyed, clutching tightly to Suga’s clammy hand as they worked their way through the crowd.

They had almost made it past the clump of people loitering outside a recently closed bar, when someone said Suga’s name. Daichi didn’t stop, even when Suga’s steps stuttered, just pulled him along through the crowd.

“Sugawara!” The voice called again, and suddenly someone had a hand on Suga’s shoulder. “I thought that was you.”

Daichi stopped. He had to, as Suga froze. Suga didn’t even turn around to look at the man gripping his shoulder, but gave a lukewarm, “Shido.”

The man, Shido, was tall. He looked to be right around their age, with straight dark hair and thick eyebrows. He looked vaguely familiar, like Daichi had seen him in a picture somewhere, but he couldn’t place _where._

“Suga,” Daichi said, but he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. Maybe a reminder that Suga himself said to ignore the man, but the man took it as a question, holding out a hand for Daichi to shake.

“Shido Heisuke,” He said. “I played volleyball with Suga back in high school.”

Daichi looked between Suga and Shido, and when Suga didn’t make any sign of disagreement, he offered a hesitant, “Daichi.”

He had to let go of Suga’s hand to shake Shido’s, and the gesture wasn’t lost on their new companion. His gaze lingered on where Daichi and Suga’s hands had been linked, and his brows furrowed the tiniest bit as he shook Daichi’s hand.

“What do you want Shido?” Suga interrupted, and was quick to recapture Daichi’s hand in his. Somehow, it felt like they had gotten even clamier.

Shido lifted his hands in a placating gesture, unconcerned by Suga’s hostility. “Just wanted to say hi. It’s been a while. How’s Oikawa? Iwaizumi?”

Daichi could practically see the debate going on in Suga’s head, whether to answer or just leave, but eventually he said, “Both good. Iwaizumi is working as a trainer… for Oikawa’s team, actually.”

“Oikawa’s playing professionally?” Shido asked, and then laughed, sheepishly. “Nevermind, of course he is. Stubborn bastard.”

Suga’s grip tightened.

Daichi considered making an excuse about how they had to leave, but Shido continued, “Do you still play?”

“No,” Suga said, with a finality and confidence that made Daichi _certain_ that he had missed something. “Spending my senior year season out of commission kinda made me lose my love for the sport.”

Something in Shido’s expression shifted. It made the hairs on the back of Daichi’s neck stand up, so he cleared his throat, tugging on Suga’s hand. “Koushi, we should go.”

“Right.” Thankfully, Suga seemed to snap out of whatever stupor he was in. “I would say it was good to see you, Shido, but… yeah. Bye.”

With that, Suga turned, pulling Daichi along as Daichi blinked and tried to process what had just happened. They’d only made it a few feet, however, before Shido shouted something after them.

“You didn’t ask if I’m still playing volleyball!”

“Just keep walking,” Suga said, with gritted teeth, but, once again, Daichi wasn’t sure if he was talking to Daichi or himself _._

Shido began to walk after them, still talking.

“I’m not, you know. I tried out for a college team, but they told me they didn’t want anyone that was cut in their senior year.”

At this point, Shido’s words had gotten to the point where other pedestrians were glancing their way, hoping to witness some dramatic interaction that they could regurgitate to their friends later over a drink.

“I had to quit, Suga!”

Suga squeezed Daichi’s hand again, and this time, Daichi squeezed back.

“It’s your fault that I had to quit, and I hope you’re fucking happy about it!”

This time, Suga paused, hesitating in his steps. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Shido was close enough behind now, and yanked at Suga’s shoulder before they could keep going.

“You fucking asshole, how did you get the coach to cut us?” Shido snarled, and Daichi noticed Suga’s tiny flinch at the sound of his voice in his ear. “Did your little boyfriend fix everything because he was the captain?”

“Hey,” Daichi snapped, in the strongest voice he could muster. He lifted his chin, aware of the fact that Shido had a few inches on him. Still, he had been the captain to a team of lanky, lazy assholes, namely Kuroo and Bokuto, so he was used to it. Apparently, his “captain face” still worked after all these years, because Shido hesitated for the barest of seconds. “Get your hand off of him.”

Shido took a moment to weigh his options: back down or challenge Daichi.

He made the wrong decision.

“I don’t think I will, actually,” Shido said, smirking with a confidence that Daichi might have admired had it been anyone else in any other situation other than this one. He continued, “Because here’s the thing about your boyfriend-”

Daichi let go of Suga’s hand, made a fist, and socked Shido in the jaw.

Shido yelled in pain, and Daichi thought about doing that too, because punching him _hurt,_ but the crowd was starting to whisper and Shido was screaming something about his tooth, so Daichi ignored the sting of his knuckles as he slipped his hand back into Suga’s.

“Is someone going to call the police?” Shido roared at the crowd, even though it was obvious _who_ had been provoking _who._

Suga’s mouth was open so wide it looked like he was attracting flies.

“Run?” Daichi asked.

They ran.

They ran down the streets of the city, dodging other pedestrians, hands linked, until Suga sputtered to a stop outside a little park down the block from his apartment.

He heaved, folding in on himself, wheezing, and for a second, Daichi was worried he was having another panic attack, or maybe he was just really out of shape and they ran for too long, but then Suga looked up at him and Daichi saw that he was _laughing._

“Oh my fucking god,” Suga wheezed, face giddy, “You just decked Shido Heisuke. Oh my _god_.”

Daichi’s face burned, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Is that a bad thing…?”

“Definitely not,” Suga said, and his grin could have lit the entire darkened street. “Not even Iwaizumi was bold enough to lay a hand on him. You have no idea how incredible that was.”

“Who was that guy, anyways?” Daichi asked, glancing over his shoulder to double check they hadn’t been followed.

Suga’s smile faded. “He was right, we did play volleyball together. Went to high school together...”

“But?”

“But…” Suga trailed off, running a nervous hand through his hair. “It’s difficult for me to talk about.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Suga said, suddenly, confidently. “Akaashi was right, I need to be more honest. With you… and with me. But can we sit down first? I haven’t ran like that since high school.”

Thankfully, the park was still open at this hour, and free of any curious pedestrians, so Suga sat down on one of the swings to tell his tale.

“Back in high school… I wasn’t really… liked? I mean, I had friends, mostly just guys from the volleyball team, and of course, Oikawa and Iwaizumi. There was Matsukawa and Hanamaki, too, but I wasn’t super close with them. People outside of that group just tended to think that I was… weird, I guess. There might have been a little bit of homophobia there, but… that was just how it was.

“I wasn’t a starter on the volleyball team, either. Oikawa and I were both setters, and he’s been out of my league since we were in middle school, so I didn’t really have a chance. I was a pinch server, though, and would play as Oikawa’s backup setter. At least, until senior year.”

Suga seemed to lose himself for a moment, swaying on the swings as he paused his monologue.

After a moment, Daichi probed, “What happened senior year?”

“It was winter break. Oikawa was at a volleyball camp with some college teams, and I decided that I was tired of not having friends. With Oikawa gone, I realized how dependent I was on his friendship to keep me afloat, so I called Maki and asked if he knew if any parties were happening around town. He told me about Sawauchi’s New Year’s party. So… I went. I told my mom that I was going to hang out with Iwaizumi, and I went to the party.”

The dread in Daichi’s stomach grew larger, deeper, the more Suga spoke, but he forced himself to keep listening.

“I had never drunk before,” Suga continued. “Never _been_ drunk before. But I drank a lot that night. Too much. I was pretty much out of it before midnight. At one point, Shido came up to me. I don’t even remember what he told me, I was so far gone by then, but he might have said something about getting snacks. I don’t know, I trusted him. We were teammates.”

The dread was quick to turn to straight horror, and Daichi’s tongue felt thick in his mouth. “Did he…?”

Suga seemed to catch his meaning, because he shook his head. “No, he didn’t touch me. Didn’t even hit me or anything. We just got into his car, with another teammate of ours, Yuda, in the front seat, and he drove. As soon as you get outside of town limits, there’s just… nothing. A couple farms, a couple cows, and a lot of trees, for miles. Shido ended up driving into the woods, through a bunch of hunting roads that led nowhere, and told me to get out.” Suga cleared his throat, but it sounded too wet. Daichi’s heart clenched.

“They just left me there. Shido drove away, and I was left alone in the middle of the woods at three am in the middle of winter.”

“Jesus Christ,” Daichi said, before he even realized he had opened his mouth. Rage boiled just below the surface of his skin, burning more than the abrasions on his knuckles.

“I was missing for two days. They found me passed out on the porch of some poor farmer, ten miles east of town limits. According to the doctors, I almost died of exposure. Uh, dehydration and hypothermia, to be more specific. I was in the hospital for a while. Had to go to physical therapy… and regular therapy. But I was too weak to play. Tryouts for the season were only a week after I got out of the hospital, and I just… couldn’t do it.”

“And Shido?”

Suga breathed in and out, his eyes watching the little cold cloud disappear. “The police didn’t believe me. I didn’t even want to go to them in the first place, but my mom insisted. The cop told me that there wasn’t enough evidence to prosecute, that it was just boys being boys and a little bit of playful hazing, that I was probably lying and they didn’t leave me there on purpose… whatever meant they didn’t have to arrest someone. I never told the school what happened, and if they knew, they didn’t do anything about it. But Oikawa told our coach, so he did the only thing that he had the power to do, and cut Shido and Yuda from the team.”

Legs acting before his brain could process, Daichi stood from his swing.

“Wh-where are you going?” Suga asked, breathless, and Daichi’s heart broke at how _sad_ he sounded.

“Punching him once was too good for him,” Daichi said, and in that moment, Daichi understood something about himself. He’d never considered himself a violent person before, but he was absolutely certain that he meant what he said. He was going back and tracking down Shido to show that bastard that he meant it as well.

At least, he would have, if not for Suga’s hand, gripping Daichi’s arm.

“Don’t,” Suga said, and for some reason, Daichi did. “Trust me, that one punch was enough.”

“Not for me.”

“It was for _me_ ,” Suga said, quietly. “I’ve never had someone defend me like that before…” His face twisted, eyebrows knitting in the way that Daichi began to associate with his _self-deprecating_ expression. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Suga,” Daichi started, but Suga kept talking.

“You deserve someone better than me. Someone that can actually spend time with his friends without having a panic attack everyone someone offers him a drink-”

Once again, Daichi was distantly aware that he was missing something in the conversation, so it took a moment to process what Suga was saying. By then, he was rambling, feet pushing at the ground, less in a purposeful stride to start swinging, but more in a nervous gesture that left Suga swaying awkwardly as he dug himself into his self-deprecating hole.

More on instinct than anything, Daichi stepped in front of Suga, gripping the chain of the swing on either sides of Suga’s head, halting his fidgeting, and Suga stared down at the ground with an anxious curl of his lip.

“Suga,” Daichi said, and those morose eyes blinked up at him. Something in Daichi's chest was _aching_ . “I never want to hear you say those words ever again. _No one_ is better than you, okay? And I don’t care if you drink or don’t drink, or whatever happened to you back in high school.

“I like hanging out with you, Suga. You’re funny and you’re smart and somehow you managed to convince Akaashi to end five years of pining after knowing him for a week!”

Suga laughed, but it was a soft and breezy thing, like he had been repressing a sob.

“When will you get it through your thick skull that we’re friends, Suga?” Daichi, to finish his point, flicked Suga’s forehead, making the other man laugh again. This one sounded like a laugh.

“God,” Suga said, wiping a stray tear from below his eye. “I have to stop having mental breakdowns around you. What is this… number three?”

“We’re friends,” Daichi repeated. “That’s what I’m here for. Do I need to hit you again?”

“No!” Suga countered, quickly, but he was grinning as he dodged Daichi’s finger. “I’m better now, I promise.”

Daichi didn’t entirely believe him, but he believed that Suga was _trying,_ at least, so he let him off the hook, and the silence left in the wake of their laughter was… comforting. Not awkward, like the walk home from the bar. There was still anticipation there, but it felt… more giddy.

With a start, Daichi realized that he was still holding Suga’s swing, and Suga was still staring up at him with that wide-eyed doe expression that Daichi only kinda thought was fake. Suga didn’t say anything, just… looked at him.

At that moment, Daichi knew.

They were going to break another rule.

Suga tilted his chin up, closed the short distance, and kissed him.

It was short and chaste, nothing like the passionate embrace of Akaashi and Bokuto earlier.

It was just a peck, really. Barely a brushing of lips before Suga startled backward, almost falling off the swing in his panic to get away. He touched his lips, like the kiss had burned him, and Daichi was distantly aware that he was doing the same.

Maybe his lips really were burning.

He was sure his cheeks were red, but that might have been from the cold.

(It wasn’t from the cold)

Suga opened his mouth and started to say something, before giving up and offering a pathetic, “I’m so sorry.”

And then he fled.

One moment, they were together, and the next Suga was running off into the dark, thankfully in the direction of his apartment, as Daichi desperately tried to process _what the hell just happened_ and more importantly, how he _felt_ about _what the hell just happened._

It was a miracle Daichi made it back to his apartment at all, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> Yeah.
> 
> Check out my tumblr? [oikawa-tuwu](oikawa-tuwu.tumblr.com) or [not-to-be-gay-but-holy-shit](not-to-be-gay-but-holy-shit.tumblr.com)


	6. The One Where They Break Rule Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They break rule five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy!! We’re here!! Final chapter!!! This took so fucking long to write!!! Bro!!! I'm so sorry!!!! (Also this chapter is like twice as long as the other chapters I DON'T KNOW HOW IT HAPPENED??) But if you're still here for this, I love you with all my heart asdkjf
> 
> Music:  
> Fly Out to Alaska, Bears in Trees  
> Line Without a Hook, Ricky Montgomery  
> Pumpkin, The Regrettes <\--- it's the final chapter, so you get three, enjoy :D
> 
> ALSO this chapter uses the word queer in a reclaiming sense (as in a gay man calls himself it to another gay man as a form of identity), I know some people don’t feel great about the word, so I figured I would put a warning! Enjoy the chapter!!

_ 5\. No falling in love. _

Suga didn’t leave his room for three days.

If this had happened  _ pre-Daichi _ , maybe that wouldn’t have been all that concerning. It wasn’t unusual for Suga to barricade himself in his room, wanting space and quiet to finish his most recent deadline.

_ Post-Daichi _ …  _ Post-Daichi _ Suga remembered that he was  _ post-Daichi _ , and just wanted to curl up under his duvet.

Emotional turmoil was supposed to be good for the creative process. Just fill a little glass jar with those negative emotions and dump it all out into a first draft, a second draft, a third, a final… profit. After all, that’s what he did with  _ other people’s _ emotions.

The cursor on his word document blinked up at him. Persistent. Ever-present.

Someone knocked on his bedroom door.

For a second, he thought that knock sounded like  _ Daichi _ , and his heart lurched, but then Oikawa’s voice said, “Koushi?” and whatever hope he had was squashed.

_ What did a Daichi-knock even sound like? _

Probably something strong. Confident. Compassionate.

The more reasonable half of Suga quietly reminded him that it was a knock _,_ _not the answer to a fucking uquiz,_ and he needed to get a grip.

Oikawa knocked again, more impatient this time.

“You have to leave your room, eventually, Koushi,” Oikawa called.

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do,” Oikawa said. His voice was starting to get that whine, the little high pitched tone that meant he wasn’t getting what he wanted. Suga had heard that voice a lot in high school. “I’m coming in!”

“Don’t come in-”

Suga’s protests proved to be in vain, as Oikawa opened the door anyways, crossing his arms and surveying the state of Suga with a disgusted curled lip.

“When was the last time you showered?”

Apparently, silence wasn’t the right answer, because Oikawa sighed, one deep breath in and one deep breath out, pinching the bridge of his nose just underneath his glasses.

“Take a shower and get dressed,” Oikawa said. “We’re going out for coffee.”

“We’re not going out for coffee.”

An hour and a shower later, they went out for coffee.

The walk over was tense, the two minutes they spent ordering even more tense. Thankfully, Akaashi wasn’t manning the register, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in the back or on break. With luck, today would be his day off and he would be none the wiser that Suga was ever in his coffee shop that day. Suga wasn’t sure if he had the guts to face any of their friends, especially considering he wasn’t sure what Daichi might have said. Or to  _ whom  _ Daichi might have said.

Hm. When did Akaashi go from being  _ Oikawa’s  _ or  _ Daichi’s  _ friend, to  _ their  _ friend?

Strange.

Oikawa’s patience ran thin around the same time their drinks were finished, and their barista, once again, no Akaashi in sight, brought them to their table.

“What’s wrong?”

It took Suga an unfortunately long moment to process the question, as most of his brain functions were still focused on looking for any signs that Akaashi was working. Answering way too late to ever be convincing, he tried, “Nothing,” but Oikawa just rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on. You haven’t left your room in three days,  _ something  _ is obviously wrong, and you're going to tell your best friend and confidant what it is. Is it about Daichi?”

Suga sunk deeper into his chair, trying to focus on the temperature of his hot tea against his palms. “Not everything is about Daichi, you know.”

“But this thing is,” Oikawa countered, and he didn’t even wait for a confirmation from Suga to know if he was right. He just sighed, knowingly, and took a sip from his coffee. “Did you break up?”

“Not exactly.”

Suga couldn’t look Oikawa in the eyes as he did this, couldn’t face the rising guilt building in his throat, so he stared at his tea instead. Daichi would be disappointed in him for ruining their ruse, but there was no point anymore considering he’d fucked up and broken their fourth rule, and Daichi wouldn’t text him and was probably somehow more disgusted with Suga than Suga was with himself.

“We didn’t break up,” Suga plowed on. “Because we were never dating in the first place.”

Oikawa was silent for a long moment, before he gave another long, burdened sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

“You what?”

“I’ve known, Koushi. We’ve been friends since middle school, I  _ know  _ you. I figured it out at Kuroo’s game night.”

“You… why didn’t you tell me?”

Scowling, Oikawa crossed his arms petulantly. “I don’t know, maybe because you looked like you were  _ happy  _ for the first time in god knows how many years. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to stop hanging out with Daichi, okay?”

“But we weren’t dating,” Suga said. His head was starting to hurt, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was dehydration, maybe it was the release of tension, maybe it was his addled brain not being able to wrap itself around this  _ mind fuck _ . “Wasn’t the point of all this to get me a boyfriend?”

“Suga, maybe I was over the moon when you left Daichi’s bar that night with a boyfriend, but I would have been elated if you left with a  _ friend _ ! It’s been hard to watch you these last few years… you’re so obviously lonely, but too stubborn to admit it to yourself!”

“It’s called a coping mechanism, Tooru,” Suga snapped, and Oikawa shut up, turning his gaze back to the foam on his latte.

“I know,” Oikawa said, a little quieter, a little softer. “And I’m sorry. I just thought that if I helped you make some friends, it might help you push past what happened in high school. And I knew Daichi was in a rough place, too, so I thought the two of you could… I don’t know, patch each other up?”

Something white hot (Frustration? Rage?) sparked deep within Suga. “It’s not your  _ job _ to put me back together again. I’m allowed to figure things out on my own!”

“And sometimes you’re allowed to ask for help,” Oikawa shot back. “Especially from people who weren’t there to stop it in the first place! You’re my best friend and I had to come home and find out from  _ Iwaizumi  _ that you had been in the hospital for three days? And then we had to sit behind the assholes that did that to you in fucking  _ Statistics  _ class?!”

That fire raged deeper inside him, and he bit, “I never asked you to worry about me.”

“Well, then fuck you, Suga, because I’m going to. I’m your best friend. I’m going to worry about you and I’m going to try to make your life easier and I’m going to blame myself for the bad things that happen to you, it comes with the fucking territory. Why can’t you get it through your stubborn head that I care about you? That I want to protect you!”

“Because I’m allowed to protect myself!” After saying it, Suga remembered where they were, and he did a cursory glance around the cafe. No one seemed to be looking their way, but he was certain that there was at least one patron with their ears turned to this dramatic squabble. He said, quieter, “I’m not a child, Oikawa.”

“I never said you were.”

“But you  _ act  _ like I am! I don’t need someone dictating everything I do, trying to perfect my life from the outside! I didn’t need this support network, I was fine on my own! And now I’m in love with a guy that won’t even talk to me!”

This was too much. The two of them had argued before, it came with the territory of being stubborn assholes who somehow managed to stay friends for this long, but never over something as important as  _ this. _

Oikawa frowned. He tried to reach for Suga’s hand on the table, but Suga moved it before he could grasp it. “Let me help, I can fix it-”

“No,” Suga snapped. He was so, so tired. He wanted to crawl under a rock and sleep and stick his head in a bucket of cool water and shut up before he said something he couldn’t take back, but instead the words kept coming. “You’re only going to make it worse.”

Immediately, Suga knew he went too far. Oikawa closed his mouth and looked away, hand dropping from the table, and Suga could  _ see  _ the moment he made a decision. The flicker in his eyes that Suga recognized as a mask, carefully sliding into place. Oikawa picked up his cup, finished the last of his latte, and stood.

He said, in a frigid tone that Suga hadn’t heard since Kuroo’s game night, “I’m staying at Iwaizumi’s tonight,” and walked away, not once looking back.

Only after he heard the cafe doors slam shut behind Oikawa did Suga allow himself to break, holding his head in his hands as the tears started to fall. He heard footsteps approaching, and when he glanced up, Akaashi was standing in front of him, holding a paper bag with a little pastry inside, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Just go away, Akaashi.”

But Akaashi didn’t leave, not immediately. Instead, he placed the bag on Suga’s table, and said, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

And then he left, and Suga was, once again, all alone.

Daichi was staring at a wall.

It wasn’t a particularly interesting wall, although he was sure there was a scuff that hadn’t been there last month.

Maybe it would have been more interesting to watch the TV. Daichi could hear something vaguely entertaining happening from that direction, although he wasn’t sure what brought him to turn it to that channel at all. He didn’t recognize the faces, and he didn’t bother to try to recognize the words.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat.

Daichi’s roommate stood, lingering by their front door, jacket half on. When had he gotten there? The pity in his eyebrows made Daichi’s gut twist.

“Daichi, when was the last time you ate?”

When  _ was _ the last time he ate? He couldn’t remember. He’d maintained enough composure the last few days to make it to work, shower, and eat the minimal amount of times to keep him moving, but whenever he wasn’t actively doing something, his brain resembled more like TV static than actual thoughts. Thank god he was off that day, because he was certain his tips would have been even more dismal than the last two nights.

Iwaizumi was still waiting for an answer.

He lied and said, “Breakfast.”

When had it gotten that easy to lie to his friends?

Iwaizumi sighed, grumbled something under his breath about  _ I don’t have time for this _ , and shoved his other arm into it’s sleeve. “Oikawa’s spending the night tonight. He and Suga had a fight, apparently.”

“Okay.”

“I’m heading to work.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to grab something on my way home for dinner?”

“Okay.”

The door to their apartment had always been a bit finicky, requiring more than a little force to shove it open, but the way the door slammed open, nearly crashing into Iwaizumi’s face, was less tact and more pure rage.

“Kuroo,” Iwaizumi greeted, dryly, which honestly, Daichi thought was a fairly warm welcome for someone who had almost broken his nose five seconds ago.

“Move, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi moved. He took his scarf from the coat rack and slipped behind Kuroo, calling, “Don’t get blood on the carpet!” as he left out into the hallway.

“No promises,” Kuroo muttered, but the door was already swinging shut behind him. “What the  _ fuck  _ did you do?”

Daichi blinked. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Care to explain to me why I just got a text from Oikawa, telling me that you and Suga were  _ lying  _ about being together? Or maybe why said fake boyfriend is crying his eyes out in Akaashi’s coffee shop?”

Daichi didn’t know about that last part.

Instead, he said, “It’s complicated.”

“ _ Un _ complicate it.”

Daichi tried to focus his gaze onto his friend. This visage, the unbridled anger and frustration… Daichi had only seen this expression on Kuroo once before: the day he and Hayato had broken up. Back then, it had taken both Bokuto and Iwaizumi to hold him back, before he tore through the streets looking for the man that had crushed one of his best friends’ hearts. Now that anger was turned onto Daichi.

Belatedly, Daichi realized how strange it was that he hadn’t cried in the last three days.

But he was crying now.

Immediately, Kuroo’s expression softened. The anger didn’t disappear, but its direction had shifted to an unknown future target. He let out a little sigh, running a hand through his shock of black hair.

He asked, again, more carefully, “What happened?”

“He kissed me,” Daichi said, amazed he could speak clearly through the waterfall in his eyes. “Or I kissed him. I’m not sure which one.”

Kuroo chewed his lip, thoughtfully, and then sat on the couch next to Daichi. “Is that good or bad?”

Truthfully, Daichi said, “I don’t know.”

Kuroo was silent for a long time, and Daichi was certain he would open his mouth and say something clever or witty or offer up the solution to all of Daichi’s problems, but instead, he just sighed again and opened his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s affection,” Kuroo said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m offering a hug.”

“When have we  _ ever  _ shown physical affection with each other?”

“Come on,” Kuroo whined. “I platonically cuddle with Bokuto all the time! Now hug me, I’m starting to look lame.”

“Starting?” Daichi snickered, but he relented and leaned into Kuroo’s open arms.

“You’re too muscley,” Kuroo complained.

“You’re too bony,” Daichi shot back.

It was… nice. Daichi couldn’t help but relax, tension in his joints slowly loosening as Kuroo’s arms wrapped around him, and they watched the show that Daichi had instinctively put on the TV.

“Since when do you watch crap like this?” Kuroo asked, as the reality show cut to commercial.

“I just needed noise,” Daichi lied.

He couldn’t see Kuroo’s face, but he could hear the smirk in his voice. “Sure.”

If it wasn’t for the TV show, Daichi would have lost track of how long they sat there, in silence, savoring the warmth of someone else’s presence. One episode and two commercials later, Daichi’s eyes had nearly dried.

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Then don’t.”

Daichi shot a glare back at Kuroo, but the other man didn’t seem concerned at the hostility.

“I saw Hayato.”

“You  _ what? _ ” Kuroo exclaimed, unfortunately, directly in Daichi’s ear. “When was this?!”

“A few days ago. Suga and I went to dinner before the game-”

Kuroo sighed, “I told you that you could never go to Boticelli’s ever again. Hayato got it in the divorce. You got to keep all of your awesome friends, but he got the restaurant.”

“He was on a date, Kuroo.”

Kuroo huffed, not sounding particularly surprised by the revelation. “With that guy?”

“With a girl.”

“ _ Oh, _ ” Kuroo said. “I thought he was…?”

“Me too,” Daichi sighed. “Me too.”

The two of them fell quiet once again, watching the images flash across the tv, not really paying attention, but not  _ not  _ paying attention either, until Kuroo phone buzzed. He pulled it out and swore, slowly untangling his limbs from Daichi’s.

“My lunch break is almost over,” he said, still reading whatever text or email or message he had received. “I have to get back to the office.”

Daichi just nodded, eyes remaining on the screen even as he heard Kuroo in the background, tugging on his shoes and jacket.

“Eat some lunch,” Kuroo said, and Daichi nodded again, even though he knew he wasn’t going to. “And I know it must have been hard to see Hayato again, but… don’t call him. Do whatever you need to heal or think or whatever, but don’t call Hayato.”

And then he was gone, and the door to his apartment slammed shut behind him.

Daichi picked up his phone.

Walking into Hayato’s work felt more surreal than it should have been.

He hadn’t visited Hayato at work often. It was his father’s law firm, and his parents made their disapproval loud and clear. Daichi had really only gotten past the receptionist desk twice. The first time he’d gone in as Hayato’s  _ friend,  _ meeting him and his parents before the family dinner where Daichi left as Hayato’s  _ boyfriend. _ The second time, Daichi had only come to bring Hayato food. They’d had plans the night before, but Hayato cancelled for “work things” that involved him staying at the office overnight, so Daichi figured he’d do the nice boyfriend thing and bring him breakfast the next morning.

He’d always been puzzled by the confused tilt of the receptionist’s head when he asked her about what work emergency at a law firm involved working overnight.

Retroactively, he knew exactly why.

“My father is at court right now,” Hayato explained, flipping on the lights to his office, pretending that his voice didn't hesitate at the word  _ father _ . “So… don’t worry about him.”

Daichi wasn't worried about him. In fact, he found he wasn't exactly worried about anything. Whatever butterflies that had resided in his stomach on the walk over had disappeared, flown off to haunt some other poor soul.

“And the girl?”

Hayato paused, just a single moment of quiet trepidation. With one hand bracing against the desk, he lowered himself into his chair. Finally, he said, “It was only one date, Daichi.”

Something about those words twisted painfully in his gut.

“Right. And the other guy?"

Everything about Hayato's movements were precise, calculated. A chess game where his limbs were the game pieces. Or maybe he was more like an actor, playing in his own life. Now, Daichi saw the facade slip.

"He… he broke up with me, actually. Apparently we had a mutual friend and… well… it doesn't matter."

"Crazy how some people don't like being lied to."

Hayato's eyebrow twitched, a sign that, once again, Daichi's words had cracked his immaculate exterior. He recovered quickly, however, clearing his throat with an awkward chuckle.

"Anyways, how are you and… sorry, what was his name?"

“Suga,” Daichi said, automatically, even though he knew full well that Hayato hadn't forgotten the name. Hayato had never forgotten anyone's name. “And… not great at the moment.”

Hayato frowned, one eyebrow lifted in a show of concern. Calculated, careful, and oh so obviously  _ fake. _ “I’m sorry.”

It was a lie, another lie on top of the million lies Hayato had spewed before. The only difference was that now Daichi knew. He knew his tells, knew that despite his charismatic smile and thoughtful words, deep down, Hayato didn’t have his best interests at heart.

His chest ached. It was less of an ache for what could have been, had they not broken up, but more of a sympathy-pain, pitying his past self for ever falling for the ruse in the first place. And, preemptively, pitying any poor soul that would come after him.

One question nagged at Daichi, the words that had bounced around in his head since they first broke up, like the little logo on old DVD players, floating from wall to wall of his brain, ever-present and hypnotizing. “Why did you do it? Was I not good enough?”

“You were perfect,” Hayato said, quietly. He didn’t look at Daichi as he said it. Maybe it was shame. Maybe he was lying. Maybe it didn’t even matter. “I don’t know  _ why _ … I just… you know, my parents put so much pressure on me, and… I miss you, Daichi. I miss our friends. I want you back.”

Daichi wanted to laugh. What he would have given to hear those words two, three months ago.

“You broke my  _ heart. _ It took Kuroo and Oikawa and  _ Suga  _ to pick up what  _ you  _ left behind and put me back together again. I can’t do that again, I can’t do  _ this  _ again.”

Hayato clenched his jaw, squeezing his fist. Anger, simmering, just below that immaculate surface. “Then why did you even call me?”

_ Because I needed to know. _

He needed to understand what he was feeling, this strange slew of emotions. He needed to isolate the source and determine what about Hayato…. or what about  _ Suga,  _ made him feel this way.

When he reached down, deep inside himself, he needed to know if he felt  _ sad. _ If he felt  _ happy  _ that Hayato wanted him back. He needed to know if he felt… anything.

But he didn't.

Even that ache in his chest had subsided, leaving nothing in its wake. Nothing but a cruel, underlying, satisfaction that Hayato was hurting in a trap by his own design.

Finally, Daichi said, "I called you because I needed to know I was strong enough to look you in the eyes and tell you no."

"And are you?"

"I am. We're not getting back together."

Daichi stood, and for a moment, Hayato looked up at him. He looked so much like his father just then, the critical, narrowed eyes and unsatisfied frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You know, I was really in love with you, Ikejiri. Screw whatever your parents said, I was gonna propose. We could have been happy."

"I hope he's worth it."

"He is. But I can't say the same for you."

Daichi turned to leave, but he hesitated with his hand on the door handle. He should have left then and there, let it be and move on, but there was something else, one last comment on the tip of his tongue, something that had bothered him the whole time they dated and plus some.

"At some point," Daichi said, "Your parents won't be around to blame anymore."

The office door shut behind him. He didn’t look back.

Suga’s apartment was too cold. It was too empty. Too quiet. He knew Oikawa had come and gone already, grabbing what essentials he would need for the unforeseeable future, but he still expected him to walk in and flop down next to him on the couch after practice, or slam open his bedroom door ranting incoherently about some sort of drama.

He knew it wasn’t coming, even though a small part of him hoped everything from this morning was a dream.

The apartment just felt so much  _ colder  _ without him.

But instead of calling, or texting, or doing anything, really except staring at his laptop screen, he piled a mountain of blankets on top of himself and prayed the heat would kick in soon.

The cold used to be so comforting. It used to be grounding.

But now he just felt miserable.

A knock sounded at his apartment door. Suga didn’t move.

He didn’t want to face whoever was on the other side of that door. Was it Oikawa? Was it… Daichi?

He wasn’t sure if the unease in gut was from anticipation or  _ trepidation  _ at the prospect of Daichi Sawamura at his door.

Either way, he didn’t answer the door. If it was really important, Oikawa had a key, and if it was anyone else, they could text him whatever they wanted. You know, like a normal person.

Someone knocked again, harder this time, more insistent.

Suga burrowed deeper into his blankets. Maybe if he ignored it enough, if he ignored everything enough, he could become one with his blanket, that awful tattered orange thing that Oiakwa had threatened to throw out more than once.

His visitor didn’t leave. Rather than footsteps retreating, or a flyer being slid under his door, he heard someone sigh and call, “Koushi? Are you in there?”

That was  _ not  _ the voice of Daichi Sawamura.

It was soft, scared, a little higher pitched, and all-too familiar.

Suddenly, he was seventeen again, waking up in the hospital bed, cold fingers the same pale color as the hand clutching his. That voice had said something similar then, too, in that same voice. He’d heard it as he’d woken up, and he decided in that moment that he would never make his mom worry enough about him to sound that scared ever again.

Yet here he was.

Suga stood from the couch. With the mountain of blankets on his back, the hem dragging along the ground behind him, he had the passing amusing thought that he resembled a king-the sad and sickly ruler of this two bedroom apartment. The fantasy didn’t last long, as he passed a mirror in the hallway, and he barely recognized the dark circles that had made their home below his eyes.

_ Sickly  _ was right. He looked like death.  _ Felt  _ like death. He should eat something, and probably get some sleep too. How long had he been staring at his blank document?

There was another knock.

Suga looked away from the mirror and opened the door.

Sure enough, his mother stood on the other side. She frowned when she saw him, and as she took in his appearance, he knew she saw exactly what he did in the mirror.

“You’re a mess, Koushi,” his mother said, and pulled him into a hug so tight that he almost couldn’t breathe. Whatever had been pent up, that ball of regret and anger and frustration exploded, and he hugged his mom back, almost even tighter. She smelled like home, like the lavender that grew in the garden and like his father’s cooking with too much garlic, and like the fabric softener that didn’t ever smell the same in the city. It was almost too much.

“Oh, baby,” his mother cooed, and she stroked his hair, still refusing to let him go just as much as Suga refused to let  _ her  _ go. “What can I do?”

“Take me home.”

Daichi found Oikawa day drinking in his apartment when he got home.

“What happened to you?” Daichi asked, surveying the damage. A couple empty beer bottles were scattered across the living room, but it wasn’t an obscene amount, and most of his and Iwaizumi’s alcohol stash seemed otherwise untouched. “I thought you hated beer.”

Oikawa didn’t look over at Daichi when he spoke, just tipped his head back and downed the last of the bottle in his hands.

“I’ve had a day,” Oikawa said, finally. “Want one?”

Daichi, as well, had  _ a day _ , so he did, in fact,  _ want one. _

They drank in silence. Daichi, staring at the wall. Oikawa, looking at his phone, before setting it down, only to pick it up a second later. A few minutes into his fidgeting, Daichi spoke up.

“Why do you keep looking at your phone?”

Without hesitation, Oikawa said, “I’m cheating on Hajime.”

Daichi squinted in Oikawa’s direction. It sounded like sarcasm, but, in all honesty, he could never really be sure with him. “No, you’re not.”

“I loathe the fact that it took you a minute to realize I was fucking with you,” Oikawa said, still staring at his phone. “Who do you think I am? Hayato?”

The quip didn’t hurt as bad as Oikawa probably expected it to.

“Someone’s feeling spicy today.”

“It’s been a  _ day _ ,” Oikawa repeated. But he must have felt somewhat bad about saying it, because he said, “I’m texting Suga’s mom.”

“And?”

“And now Suga is back at home with his parents,” Oikawa said, and clicked his phone off. “He ran away like he always does.”

Daichi frowned. It felt so strange to hear Oikawa speak badly about Suga. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do, actually,” Oikawa bit back. “He doesn’t want my help, and he made it very clear that I’m not to be involved with his life anymore.”

Daichi frowned harder. “Okay, you  _ know  _ he doesn’t mean  _ that _ . You both are just hurt right now.”

“And whose fault is it that Suga’s hurting?”

Daichi flinched. “That’s fair, I guess.”

They went back to drinking in silence, and Daichi was getting the cap off his second when Oikawa laughed. It sounded so deranged, so warped, so  _ startling  _ after so many minutes of silence, that Daichi glanced up at him. It looked like Oikawa was on the verge of tears, staring at his almost-empty beer bottle.

“God,” he said. “We’re just a bunch of queer distasters, aren’t we?”

Daichi paused, let Oikawa’s words digest, before he laughed too. “I think that covers it.”

Oikawa reached over with his beer bottle and Daichi clinked their glasses together. They kept drinking.

Suga fell asleep on the way home. On their way out of the city, his mother stopped in a fast food drive-thru and refused to leave until he ate something, however small, and then he slowly blinked asleep, head lulled against the cool window.

He woke, briefly, to get out of his mother’s car and trudge up the carpeted stairs, legs working on muscle memory. Once again, it didn’t feel so much as adult-Suga, visiting home, as it did young-Suga returning from a sleepover. Maybe a volleyball camp. Or maybe a hospital.

The last day, the last few nights, the last years just a vacation, a mere glance into a life different from his own, and now he was back where he belonged, curled up under his childhood comforter, fan on high. Back to his lonely, lonely self.

That Suga that had friends, that Suga that had a  _ boyfriend _ … It wasn’t his real life. Clearly it wasn’t, because he’d screwed it up and now he was back here. Hurting and alone.

He must have fallen asleep again, because he woke up to the sound of someone knocking on his bedroom door.

“Come in,” he mumbled.

Like he expected, his mom walked through the door, a bottle of water in one hand and a plate of food in another. She set both of them down on his nightstand and started to fuss around his room, dusting off his bookshelves, opening the curtains that covered the door out to his balcony.

“It was only a kiss,” his mother said. “I’m sure he wouldn’t hate you for that.”

But it wasn’t  _ just  _ a kiss. That kiss had unlocked something, made him realize something, and now he didn’t think he could stand being together in the same room as Daichi without being  _ together  _ with him.

“I like him too much,” Suga said, against his pillow.

“I know. And it looked like he liked you too...”

There was an unsaid  _ but  _ in his mom’s words.  _ But _ , the two of them had been pretending.  _ But _ , Daichi let him run away that night.  _ But, _ Suga’s phone was still silent.

“I think,” Suga said. “I have to move back home.”

“You should wait a little bit before you make that decision, baby. Get some sleep, and we’ll talk about this in the morning, okay?”

Suga nodded, but he knew he wasn’t going to be getting much sleep. Firstly, it was still early, the sun just barely starting to set, and secondly, that nap in the car had washed away most of his surface-level exhaustion already. He was still mentally tired,  _ emotionally _ tired, but physically, he knew he felt too wired to sleep.

His fingers twitched. He ached for a keyboard, something that he could purge his feelings onto, but he had left his laptop behind in the city.

Thankfully, his mom seemed to catch onto his frustration, pausing at his door before she left completely.

“Do you want to borrow my laptop?”

Iwaizumi found them a couple hours later. He frowned, doing the same surveying that Daichi had done when he got home to find  _ Oikawa  _ drinking.

“Really, guys?” He said, and started to make his way towards the kitchen, picking up beer bottles along the way. “You couldn’t have waited until I got home at least?”

“Thirsty,” Oikawa said, and then he giggled a little. “In more ways than one.”

“Fucking gross,” Daichi muttered, and stood up. The least he could do was help clean up, right? But as soon as he got to his feet, he swayed a little, and had to brace a hand on the back of the couch. He wasn’t drunk, but he was definitely on his way to  _ tipsy. _

“You can’t just drink your problems away,” Iwaizumi called, from the kitchen. “I have pizza, so eat something and sober up. Kuroo will be over in a few minutes.”

Oikawa whined from the recliner he sat in, curled up around a beer bottle like a stuffed animal. “What does that asshole want?”

“He wants to check up on Daichi.”

“I’m fine,” Daichi said, but the little way his  _ fine  _ slurred probably wasn’t a good testament to that fact. “A little drunk, but I’m fine.”

“You sound fine,” Iwaizumi remarked and appeared from the kitchen, shoving a paper plate with a slice of pizza on it into Daichi’s chest. “Now eat up.”

Daichi did, sitting back down on the couch. It was more solid than his own legs. Honestly, that was he got for not eating anything that day and then decided to drink.

Perfect timing apparently, because Kuroo opened the door a few minutes later, holding another box of pizza.

“Hajime bought dinner already,” Oikawa said, but Kuroo waved a hand.

“The whole squad came, I figured he didn’t buy enough for all of us.”

“He never does,” Oikawa agreed. “It’s almost like he doesn’t anticipate all of our friends invading our personal space this late on a Thursday night.”

“Crazy,” Kenma said, dryly, from Kuroo’s side, and the whole group filed into their tiny apartment.

There were too many of them for it to be comfortable, Oikawa and Iwaizumi sharing a recliner that was almost too small for  _ one  _ of them, Bokuto and Akaashi sitting on the ground (together, Daichi noted happily), and Kenma and Kuroo wedged into a couch with him.

They sat and ate pizza and Daichi finished his last beer and no one spoke for a really long time. It didn’t feel like they needed to. They were all thinking the same thing.

Missing the same person.

“Where is he?” Kuroo asked, finally, half an hour after they all showed up.

Oikawa said, “Home,” before he corrected himself, “His parents’ place.”

Everyone nodded. It wasn’t the answer they had been hoping for (like maybe by some miracle whatever fissure that had cracked between their bonds might have healed and Oikawa was about to reveal that Suga was one his way there). It was a good second best, though.

“At least he’s not alone,” Iwaizumi said, and everyone nodded, but Daichi couldn’t shake the feeling that, even if he was with his parents, he was still… alone.

“I shouldn’t have let him run away.”

Six pairs of eyes turned to him. Most of them probably assumed he meant  _ run away  _ like go back to his parents’, but Daichi couldn’t stop playing over that night at the playground in his mind. The chaste peck of Suga’s lips on his, followed by that terrified expression and him sprinting off into the night, leaving Daichi feeling a little bit like the prince at the ball in Cinderella.

“I miss him.”

Kuroo, next to him, sighed a little. “I miss him too.”

“No,” Daichi said, but he didn’t know what exactly he was protesting in Kuroo’s statement. “You don’t understand, I… I  _ miss  _ him.”

As he said it, he wasn’t sure what it meant. Of course Suga’s  _ friends  _ were allowed to miss him when he wasn’t there, but there was an inherent difference between his and Kuroo’s statements. A difference that didn’t slip the attention of Oikawa Tooru.

“You  _ miss  _ him,” Oikawa repeated, lamely, like Daichi was an idiot for not realizing something in the statement. “And regret letting him run away.”

“I thought you weren’t getting involved,” Daichi muttered, but Oikawa’s expression didn’t waver.

“Suga also said that he was going to start doing the dishes more often, I think you were onto something about this whole  _ not meaning what he says in a fit of rage  _ thing. This one time-”

“Don’t change the subject,” Kuroo snapped, and Oikawa, for once, shut up. “Daichi, do you have romantic feelings for Suga? Because when I was here earlier, you implied…”

“Things changed,” Daichi said. He didn’t like all this attention on him, talking about a subject so close to his heart when he was on the edge of inebriation. His lips felt a little funny. Quite suddenly, he realized what they meant by the term  _ loose-lipped. _ “I called Hayato. We talked and he asked if I wanted to get back together. I said no.”

Daichi felt the room collectively exhale.

“I’m proud of you, Daichi,” Akaashi murmured, and, once again, everyone else sounded off affirmations of the same. “But… what was it that stopped you?”

“Suga,” he said. “It was Suga.”

“Fuck it,” Oikawa said, suddenly, and set his pizza aside. “Get your ass in the car, we’re going after Suga.”

_ Going after Suga.  _ The words sent a little shiver down his spine. Daichi allowed himself a moment to fantasize about it-racing all the way to Suga’s parents’ house, knocking on the door, and confessing right then and there. Kissing him, for real, not just something short and chaste like their kiss at the park that other night. Telling him the truth, apologizing for ever doubting his own feelings. His heart raced even at the thought of it, adrenaline spiking through his veins.

Daichi looked at Oikawa and Oikawa looked at him, and, for the first time in a long time, it felt like they were on the same page. It felt triumphant in his mind, like the season finale of a long-winded show finally coming to its rightfully climactic end, and Daichi was ready to jump out of his seat and speed to Suga’s hometown right then and there, until Iwaizumi lifted his hand, cleared his throat, and said, “You two will do no such thing. You’re both drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” Daichi protested, but when he stood up, his vision wavered a little. He didn’t feel impared mentally for the most part, but maybe Iwaizumi was onto something. “Okay, I’m a little tipsy, I shouldn’t drive.”

“I’m not tipsy, I’m drunk,” Oikawa admitted, and sunk down into the armchair.

“ _ I’m  _ not drunk,” Kuroo said. “And I drove everyone here, so my car is downstairs.”

Bokuto sat up straight, lifting his hand a little like a kid in a classroom. “I want to come! I want to watch!”

“I want to come as well. Suga helped Bokuto and I finally get together, I want to return the favor.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do,” Kenma said.

“Iwaizumi?” Daichi asked.

Iwaizumi looked over at all of them, poised to jump up and jump into Kuroo’s car as soon as they got confirmation. He sighed, a little resigned. “Let’s go get your man.”

Daichi’s chest thrummed at the phrase  _ your man _ , and everyone launched into action. Bokuto grabbed the pizza box and Kuroo had a panicked moment where he thought he locked his keys in his car but he was just sitting on them, and Daichi sprinted to his room to find something a little more reasonable to wear other than his depression hoodie. And maybe put on some cologne, too.

Only a few minutes later, all seven of them were crammed into Kuroo’s minivan, with him and Kuroo up front, Oikawa and Iwaizumi in the middle row to give directions, and the rest crammed into the back row.

“Nice mom car,” Oikawa said, and clipped his seat belt in. “I feel like you’re taking us to soccer practice.”

“Ha ha, his car gets great gas mileage,” Kuroo said. “And the extra row is helpful now, isn’t it?”

“And he wants kids,” Kenma called from the back row. “Won’t shut up about adopting.”

Oikawa cooed, and Daichi reached over to ruffle Kuroo’s already messy hair affectionately, but he swatted his hand away, face bright red.

“Shut up, Kenma. Everyone buckled in?”

“Yes, Dad,” Bokuto called, and Kuroo gave him a confident middle finger, before putting the car in gear.

Suga couldn’t sleep.

He was restless. Sad.

Lonely.

Lonely was a familiar taste on his tongue, but that didn’t mean it was welcome. Suga ached.

And his phone was still silent.

He regretted so much. He regretted mouthing off to Oikawa, he didn’t really mean what he said. He regretted running away from Daichi. He regretted ever roping Daichi into his scheme in the first place.

But he didn’t regret kissing Daichi. He didn’t regret getting to know Daichi. The last month had been the happiest he’d been in a while. He just wished it didn’t have to end.

His mom’s laptop sat on his nightstand, so he wrapped himself in a blanket, picked it up, and carried it out to his balcony.

He’d always loved his childhood bedroom. Specifically, he’d loved this. The place where he got in the habit of writing outside, high above the world. He remembered being in high school, getting home after a volleyball game late at night. He’d been too wound up to sleep, so he would take his laptop and sit out there, watching the street below. There wasn’t much to see, the view was definitely more boring than the view from his apartment in the city, but occasionally a car would pass by, or pull into a neighbor's driveway, or someone would walk by with their dog.

It was peaceful. Calming.

The cool ground beneath his thighs was grounding.

He started to write.

“Can this car go any faster?”

“Do you want to get there or do you want to be dead?”

“Hey, Daichi, eat more pizza to sober up!”

“I’m already sober, Bo, I’m fine.”

“I’m not sober, hand me a slice.”

Suga wasn’t sure how long he was sitting out there, typing. It could have been hours, it could have just been minutes.

He felt tired, but he also felt wide awake. His limbs protested with every movement, and his brain felt slow, and yet his thoughts were still loud enough to ward off the promise of sleep.

He was just… uncomfortable. And unsatisfied.

Suga groaned, although there was no one there to hear it, and reread the last few paragraphs that he’d written, trying to get back into the right state of mind.

Nonsense. Just diction and syntax in a pleasing, but illogical manner, vomited onto a word document. God, he was going to have a field day editing this.

A few minutes later, he heard the sounds of a car approaching, and instinctively glanced up from his mother’s laptop. Perhaps a car at this time of night itself wasn’t unusual, people did live in this neighborhood after all, but a small part of him wanted to see if he could recognize the occupants. It had been a while since he visited home last, and he didn’t exactly keep up with his mom on what neighbors stayed and what neighbors moved.

He thought he vaguely recognized the car, but, then again, it was a minivan and this was a suburb. They weren’t exactly rare.

The car drove, and Suga, for a second, thought he could hear the voices from inside the car as someone yelled and the driver slammed on their brakes in front of the Sugawara household.

_ Teenagers? _ Suga thought, as the car idled in front of his house. Maybe they were coming home from a party, dropping someone off at the house across the street?

One of the back doors opened on the minivan and Oikawa stumbled out.

For a second, Suga was convinced he was hallucinating. Was he  _ that  _ sleep deprived? Suga blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again.

Still, Oikawa stood there, a little wobbly on his feet. Unfortunately, despite his slight inebriation, he still spotted Suga quickly. The habit of checking his window as teenagers still proved useful, even after all these years.

Hands cupped around his mouth, Oikawa called, “I’m sorry, Koushi!”

Suga set the laptop aside, standing from the cool floor to lean over the railing.

A true, genuine, Oikawa apology was a rarity, only saved for the worst of offenses, and in all honesty, Suga was so desperate to have his friend back that he would have accepted that and that alone, but Oikawa kept talking.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you so far past your boundaries, and I promise that I won’t meddle so much in your life anymore!”

Maybe this was a dream. It felt too good to be true, but Suga bit his lip and felt the pain and Oikawa was still standing there, face hopeful and desperate in the moonlight.

“I’m sorry, too,” Suga said, but the phrase felt insufficient. He was so, so sorry for so, so much. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have ever left our apartment. I do need that push sometimes.”

Oikawa grinned, and sent him a kiss, which Suga returned, a his own little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Suga’s attention had been so caught up on Oikawa, that he didn’t even notice his other friends silently piling out of the minivan, notably Kuroo, who  _ awed  _ audibly. The sound drew Suga’s eyes back to the car, and his heart thudded against his chest.

Daichi Sawamura.

Daichi Sawamura, in fresh jeans and a clean shirt, one hand bracing the open passenger side door, looking up at Suga.

For what felt like forever, all they did was stare at each other, equally breathless. Daichi’s head was tilted up to be able to see him, and between that and the moonlight, Suga was reminded of the first time they met. That distance, that intrigue. That longing, striking deep in his chest.

“Hey stranger,” he managed to say, and Daichi let out a little laugh.

He looked good. He probably looked much better than Suga did. He, unlike Suga, didn’t look like he had been trying not to cry all day. On one hand, Suga was happy that he looked like he was doing alright. On the other hand, some sadistic part of him was upset that Daichi didn’t look more upset about the whole thing.

“Hello there, Mr. Balcony Man,” Daichi called back, but that seemed to be the extent of his words, because he cleared his throat and looked away, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Suga swallowed. He’d been wrong when he’d thought that his anxiety went away when he saw his friends, because now it was crawling its way back up, tangling around his throat and making it a little hard to breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” Suga said, the words slipping out. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or if I ruined what friendship we had. I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.”

Daichi shook his head, persistently. He straightened his back a little, and Suga saw the Daichi he’d always seen. Strong, confident. Reliable.

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore,” Daichi said, and Suga felt his anxiety tighten. “I want to be your boyfriend, Suga. For real this time.”

For some reason, despite the hundreds of scenarios that ran through Suga’s head, he had never once entertained the idea that Daichi would actually  _ confess,  _ so he was  _ certain  _ he was hallucinating. Maybe it really was just a hyper-realistic dream based on his deepest desires, or maybe with the wind and the distance between them, he had just misheard.

“What?”

Daichi started to say something that sounded like his name, before he looked away, letting out a frustrated huff. “I can’t do this from down here, can…?”

Suga saw Oikawa tap on Daichi’s shoulder, and he pointed in the direction of Suga’s front door. His mother stood there, holding the door slightly ajar, opening it further when Daichi sprinted that way, and then Suga could hear him, racing his way up the stairs. For a second, he thought that the sound of Daichi’s footsteps was actually the sound of his heart. Surely it was pounding loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

And there he was.

Standing in the balcony door of his childhood bedroom, chest heaving slightly from the run.

“Koushi,” Daichi said, and Suga thought he would never get used to the way those vowels and consonants formed around his given name. Daichi took a step forward, until the two of them were crammed onto the tiny balcony, their friends watching from down below.

“Daichi,” Suga said. His name sounded like a dream. It was all  _ too much. _ “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

It didn’t seem like there was room for it, but Daichi took another step forward. He was barely a hair’s breadth away, and Suga’s mind helpfully reminded him that the last time they were this close together was that night at the playground, when Daichi had said those affirmations, those words that had him thrumming and warm, despite the cold night air.

He was feeling that once again. His body felt like it was working overtime, his heart ready to jump out of his chest, his face more than a few degrees over what temperature it should have been. Every limb, every appendage was humming with energy. With anticipation.

“I shouldn’t have let you run away,” Daichi said, finally. “I’m sorry. I was scared and… and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

It was such a flip in the way these conversations usually went, that Suga had to resist the urge to laugh. Since when was  _ Daichi  _ the one afraid of letting  _ Suga  _ down?

“You could never disappoint me,” Suga said, and he knew deep down that what he was saying was true. Even if Daichi had denied him, even if he had still be in love with Hayato, Suga wouldn’t have been able to fault Daichi for it. He would have found some way to blame himself. For falling in love with a man already in love.  _ Foolish. _

“Hayato and I are over,” Daichi continued, as if he could read Suga’s thoughts. “We have  _ been  _ over, for months, but… one hundred percent, he is out of the picture.”

“So… what now?”

“Koushi Sugawara,” Daichi said. “Will you be my boyfriend? No lies this time. For real.”

“Of course.”

Daichi grinned, a lopsided thing, radiant thing, but Suga only got a second to admire it before Daichi pulled him into a kiss. A real one, this time, one that took Suga’s breath away and he felt a little like he could fly off that balcony if he really wanted to.

Distantly, he heard their friends hollering, and he smiled against Daichi’s lips.

Suga made a living writing romance. He’d described first kisses over and over and over again, each time trying to avoid cliches, trying to contribute something original to the endless words that human beings have already used to describe the action of merely pressing lips against lips.

And yet, when it came down to it, he didn’t think he would have been able to accurately translate what this kiss felt like onto paper.

Cliches were cliches because they worked, right?

And yes, Suga was breathless, warm, and hungry for more when they finally parted.

A little thrill struck him when he realized that Daichi was in a similar state, flushed and grinning that confident grin.

“You know,” Suga said, a little laugh in the back of his throat. “Your cologne does a really bad job of covering the smell of beer.”

Daichi’s smile faltered a little bit, at least until Suga laughed and then he was laughing too, red face and all.

“Would you believe if I said that Oikawa got me tipsy?”

“Honestly? That sounds in character for him.”

Suga glanced over to their audience, leaning over the railing a little bit to get the full view, some of their roudier friends still whooping and cheering from the street.

“They do realize this is a neighborhood, right?” Daichi asked, scowling, when his attempts at shushing them only made them yell louder.

“Ah, let them have their fun,” Suga said, and pulled Daichi closer for another kiss.

A few weeks later, Suga sat cross-legged on the couch in his apartment, laptop balanced precariously on his knee. As he wrote, he heard the sound of one of the bedroom doors opening and closing, and then Daichi was behind him, weaving his arms through Suga’s in a hug, nestling his head on Suga’s shoulder.

Suga hummed, leaning into the touch. “All unpacked?”

“Almost.”

Suga tilted his head back, just enough to be able to reach Daichi’s lips with the intention of a brief peck.

They were interrupted by the sound of someone gagging loudly.

“Hello, Oikawa,” Daichi greeted, rather pleasantly considering the rude interruption. “How did you get in?”

Oikawa, who was, indeed, standing in the now-open doorway, shook something small and shiny in his hand. “I still have my key, duh.”

“Duh,” Suga repeated, lamely. “ _ Why _ are you here?”

Oikawa pouted. He traipsed across the apartment, dropping himself onto the couch next to Suga, notably, not closing the door behind him. “I missed my roommate!”

“ _ Ex _ -roommate,” Suga reminded him. “You kicked me out.”

Daichi snorted. “More like Iwaizumi kicked  _ me  _ out.”

WIth impeccable timing, Iwaizumi appeared in the doorway, hoisting a case of beer in one hand and a case of soda in the other. “We don’t have to argue semantics.”

“Housewarming gifts?” Daichi asked, but accepted one of the cases to help carry to the kitchen.

“Correction,” said Kuroo’s voice from the doorway. “Housewarming  _ party. _ ”

Sure enough, Kuroo and Kenma stood in the doorway, hands full of takeout containers and gaming systems. As they passed through the threshold, Bokuto and Akaashi were close behind them, Bokuto gleefully whooping and hollering, dragging Akaashi into the apartment by their linked hands. In Akaashi’s other hand was a box of pastries from the cafe.

“I didn’t expect this,” Daichi said, shooting a glance at Suga.

It was a strange thing, being able to so accurately decipher Daichi’s unspoken message in the tilt of his eyebrows. It was a thing that he had only been able to do with Oikawa before, but now, Suga understood what message lay beneath the surface.

_ Is this okay? _

Suga gave a quick nod, and closed his laptop.

“I expect a housewarming gift from each of you then,” Suga said, grinning. “What presents do you have for us?”

“Kenma and I bought dinner,” Kuroo called, in the process of setting said dinner on the dining table. “But nice try.”

Oikawa cleared his throat. “And Iwaizumi and I brought drinks!”

“I have dessert,” Akaashi said, and handed the pastries to Suga. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Bokuto looked at his empty hands, then up at Daichi next to him. He said, “I brought hugs!” And then he tackled Daichi in a hug so aggressive that Daichi nearly buckled under his weight.

“Get off of me!” Daichi protested, as Bokuto's enthusiasm brought the both of them to the ground. “Suga help!”

“Sorry, babe, my hands are full of croissants. I’ll write you a nice, eulogy though.”

Kuroo cackled, and Oikawa turned on music and Daichi was still begging Bokuto to  _ get off of his ass _ , in the chaos of it all, Suga found that he didn’t feel all that overwhelmed anymore.

_ Strange. _

“You know,” Oikawa called, making his way across the apartment to lean on the back of the couch by Suga. “Most couples wait a few months before moving in together.”

Daichi, apparently recently freed due to Bokuto being distracted with draggin Akaashi off to dance, appeared on the couch next to Suga, a little winded but grinning. “What do you mean?” He asked, and sent Suga a mischievous look. “Suga and I  _ have  _ been dating for months.”

“That doesn’t count,” Oikawa protested, and looked like he was going to say more on the topic before Iwaizumi called for him in the kitchen, and he settled for just petting them on the head.

“Well,” Daichi sighed, once Oikawa was gone and it was just the two of them on the couch. “This is chaotic.”

Suga hummed in agreement, and leaned over to rest his head on Daichi’s shoulder. It was comfier there than his own pillow, especially when Daichi threw his arm over Suga’s shoulder. “You know,” he said. “I think I’m getting used to it.”

They sat for a little bit like that, quietly soaking up each other’s presences.

Daichi, after a few moments, finally spoke up. “Did we end up breaking all of the rules on that list?”

It took a minute for Suga to remember what list he was referring too, but finally he did, frowning as he tried to remember all the numbers.

“Number one was… to go on a date once a week.”

“I had to cancel because of a deadline. Don’t tell family?”

“Oikawa told your mom. No group dates?”

“Oikawa again,” Suga groaned. “No kissing?”

“You kissed me.”

Suga pouted. “You  _ liked  _ it.”

“I did like it,” Daichi admitted, laughing. “What was the last rule?”

Suga went quiet for a moment. He remembered that last rule better than the others if he was being honest. It was the one he’d written down as a joke, and Daichi had laughed his full-belly laugh and said,  _ Cheeky, _ and Suga should have known then and there he wouldn’t have been able to keep his side of the bargain.

Quietly, Suga said, “Don’t fall in love.”

Daichi quieted too, his laugh trailing off a little, and Suga wondered briefly if Daichi hadn’t heard him over the music and the giggling from behind them.

Apparently he  _ had  _ heard Suga, because he finally spoke, saying, sheepishly, “I broke that one.”

A smile grew across Suga’s lips. “You know, I think I broke that one too.”

Daichi pressed a kiss against Suga’s hair. “I love you, Koushi.”

“I love you too, Daichi.”

And they stayed like that for a while, their own little bubble of calm in the sea of chaos of their friends, and Suga knew, deep down, that it would be a long, long time before he would have to worry about feeling  _ lonely _ ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s over?? It’s… over???  
> I first posted this fic when quarantine happened and I decided to go back to writing for fun again instead of for school or for theater, and now, many many months later, it’s done! I think this might be the longest word count of a story I've ever written (expect for maybe my wip novel?), but its DEFINITELY the longest piece I've ever posted online, so thank you for sticking with me for the whole journey!  
> Really, I want to thank everyone who read this fic, and especially everyone who left comments. I’m bad at responding to comments (Getting better at responding to comment is my goal for future fics! But talking to you guys scares me! You're all so nice!!!). I may not have said it, but trust me, every single one of your comments made my day when I read them. (I have a lot of them screenshotted and in a folder on my phone called ‘chin up babe’ for when i really need cheering up/motivation to keep writing)  
> Also, I know my writing has improved a LOT since I first started writing this fic, so if I get bored, I might go back and rewrite some earlier chapters. Feel free to check in a few months from now to see if I ever got around to doing it? Other than that, I have a couple other fics in the works (you can check my bio description for more details!)  
> Lastly, feel free to hmu on my [tumblr!](https://not-to-be-gay-but-holy-shit.tumblr.com/)   
> Thank you so so so much for reading! I hope you have an amazing rest of your day/week/life!


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